A vigorous live-streamed interactive play that ponders and satirizes America’s naturalization policies. Able actors add humor, liveliness, and intensity. The varied format is bracing, as is the interactivity.
Showing posts with label reviews. Show all posts
Showing posts with label reviews. Show all posts
SEEN BY/EVERYONE - Talkin' Broadway Review
Everything about the production works.
Kudos, to begin with, to the members of Five On A Match (Matthew Cohn, Amir Darvish, Meg MacCary, Enormvs Muñoz, and Jen Taher) for both the tremendous amount of effort they must have put in to pull together a coherent whole from the world of sources available to them. And even more plaudits for the respect with which they have treated the revelatory material, representative of real if unidentified people trying to make sense of their lives in the public forum of social media.
The bar where the evening unfolds is called Acheron, named for the mythological "river of pain" across which souls are ferried to the underworld. Two of these souls, each of whom has died suddenly and unexpectedly, are seated at, or, in the case of one of them, sprawled across the bar among the living mourners. The conversations that unfold around them tell of shock, pain, fear, and longing over the deaths, as well as other stories of loneliness and failed relationships.
Fortunately, not all is unrelentingly bleak. There are touches of humor, foolishness, self-indulgence, bar gossip, and karaoke singing to mitigate the core of sadness. The production is also blessed with a pitch perfect cast that includes the members of Five On A Match, along with another half dozen performers, almost all of whom are experienced Equity actors. They have done an excellent job of developing their characters out of the raw material of Twitter, Facebook, and other messaging sites, so that we are able to differentiate among them and follow their separate story lines through the evening.
Everything about the production works because everything has been carefully planned, down to the monogramed matchbooks, flowers, and candles on the café tables, along with the physical movement of the cast members across the stage, the selection of the karaoke numbers and appropriately non-professional singing, as well as Oana Botez's costumes, Ray Sun Ruey-Horng's video projections, and Christopher Heilman's set design. All told,Seen / By Everyone decidedly rises above its non-linear performance roots to tell an emotionally honest and compelling story that sticks in the mind long after viewing it.
Theatre Review by Howard Miller - June 7, 2016
Winter's Tale: Delightful, Whimsical, Joy to Watch
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| Joneal Joplin and Jens Rasmussen |
Under Drew Fracher’s direction, it’s very much a visual production, both in the kinetic blocking that makes much of Act II a medley of physical comedy and in the show’s set and costume design.
Written late in Shakespeare’s life and classified as a “romance,” “The Winter’s Tale” begins as a tragedy and ends as a comedy and feels like an upside-down “Romeo and Juliet” in that respect, including its focus on the adults instead of the young lovers.
With Fracher’s production, Shakespeare’s tale of Sicilia’s King Leontes’ irrational jealousy and its dire consequences — his son’s, his wife’s and an honorable nobleman’s deaths, the end of a life-long friendship with Bohemia’s King Polixenes — turns on contrasts and humor.
As a prologue, Fracher establishes an urban, aggressive tone for Sicilia with a dance at court by four women whose appearance is best described as starched and whose choreography has a militaristic undertone to it.
Marcus Stephens’ set for Sicilia extends that tone with its sparseness, gray walls and vertical blinds that hang above the sides and back of the stage, their shadows appearing to look like prison bars cast across the stage.
By contrast, his Bohemia is a world of nature, filled with trees and foliage, while the back wall disappears and is replaced by a bright blue background.
Similarly, costume designer Christine Turbitt gives the Sicilians a formal, restrictive look, while the Bohemians’ clothing has an earthy and free-flowing look to it.
Fracher further delineates the differences between Sicilia and Bohemia with his use of music: The opening dance sequence relies on loud, recorded percussion instruments and has an assaultive quality to it, for example, while the young people’s folk dance in Act II utilizes violin, viola and guitar played by members of the cast and brings the community together in celebration.
But Fracher’s use of humor provides the most subtle and obvious contrasts between Sicilia and Bohemia.
Leontes, who defies the Oracle of Apollo, and the Bohemian pickpocket Autolycus both operate outside the law, and each is a primary source of humor in this production, one as the object of the humor, the other as the engine for it.
Although Leontes’ jealousy may be unfounded, Grant Goodman makes the character’s sense of betrayal genuine, as he does Leontes’ paranoia, but he rarely and only late in Act I brings the king to a state of rage.
Instead, he plays the jealousy with an understated tone — it’s all delivered as asides — that’s both reasonable in its delivery, if occasionally cutting, and, as a result, humorous, as if Fracher and Goodman are commenting on how illogical Leontes’ jealousy is by bringing it to the fore and poking fun at it.
The engaging Giles Davies, by contrast, plays Autolycus as a happy-go-lucky all-around rogue — both in his winking delivery and his large, flowing movements that make the audience believe Autolycus improvises his way through life — whose crimes fit into the genre of comic caper.
Davies’ free-wheeling comedy invites the audience to relate to Autolycus as co-conspirators, whereas the rational demeanor Goodman brings to Leontes creates humor but also creates tension and makes the audience nervous.
Although the rest of the cast in major roles turn in the sort of performances that appear effortless but rely on precise technique, two performances standout, in particular:
As Paulina, an engrossing Wendy Robie is intense and provides the production its moral center with the sense of conviction and power she brings to the role.
L. Peter Callender, double-cast as Antigonus (the epitome of honorable in his depiction) and The Old Shepherd is a joy to watch as the latter, with Callender bursting with life and dance in the role.
As for the bear, it’s giant, furry, growls and, thanks to Kevin Dreyer’s lighting design, is outlined by lightning flashes during the storm that make it look even larger and fiercer because it becomes more of a giant blur and shadow than a distinct creature.
NY Times Review: Alexandra Collier’s ‘Underland’ Mines Rich Performances
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| Jens Rasmussen and Georgia Cohen |
Ms. Collier, who is Australian-born and New York-based, has created six vivid, droll characters. In Terra Nova Collective’s polished production of “Underland” at 59E59 Theaters, Mia Rovegno has directed six assertive, beautifully delineated performances. The meaning of the play, however, is swathed in enough metaphor to suffocate Samuel Beckett.
Some motives are obvious. The tunnel diggers, Violet and Ruth (Angeliea Stark and Kiley Lotz), seek escape, sometimes through drugs. Taka (Daniel K. Isaac), the Japanese visitor, just wants to go home, as soon as someone brings him a glass of water, please. His Tamagotchi pet dies.
The teachers are less transparent. Miss Harmony (Georgia Cohen) is new in town, and no one can figure out why she’s there. Mr. B (Jens Rasmussen), whose instructional style suggests Marine boot camp, is also literally a killer. There are sightings in town of a real crocodile, but maybe it’s just Mr. B after his nighttime transformation.
Mrs. Butterfat (a very funny Annie Golden), though, appears to be the theme-speaker, while talking to her dead husband, Glen. “Crocs. They’re just down there, waiting,” she says. She dismisses a divine-retribution explanation of why so many locals are dying: “It’s not God; it’s the land. It’ll swallow you whole.” Aha! Living in a horrible place can eat your soul.
Rasmussen... as ruggedly, athletically entrancing as he is dangerous
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| Jens Rasmussen and Angeliea Stark |
Georgia Cohen is naively sweet as the fresh-faced, hopeful Miss Harmony; it’s understandable why both the younger and older generations are drawn to her. Violet, played with convincing teenage angst by Angeliea Stark, falls for her in a big way, in part because Miss H encourages her artistic ability and gives her a camera, suggesting that her art could be her escape to somewhere new. Mrs. Butterfat also falls for her, recognizing her younger self in the woman. Annie Golden's portrayal of this unapologetically eccentric religion teacher -- who doesn’t seem particularly religious at all -- may be the highlight of the play, in part because she’s laughable in her oddball ways, from carrying on conversations with her long dead husband to zipping up her bright yellow windbreaker and heading out on long bike-rides in the dark of the night. She does her best to help Daniel Isaac’s very lost businessman Taka, and console Kiley Lotz’s confused and fearful Ruth, but they may be beyond saving. Her vigilance and endless quirks might be what it takes to survive in a desert town of extremes, from the scorching heat to the frigid cold of night, where crocodiles roam the streets and from which it seems there may be no escape.
In true horror story tradition, supernatural forces jar loose to wreak havoc and seem poised to drag us all down to hell, or at least to far, far away places. Yet it isn’t all impossible, and part of Underland’s depth is its ambitious commitment to remaining a vague, unsettling allegory about the things that are out to get girls alone at night and the terrifying allure of monsters. As Mr. B, Jens Rasmussen plays this ambiguous role well, and with surreal choreography that adds elegance and seduction to the play’s threats, he is as ruggedly, athletically entrancing as he is dangerous.
The intimate scale of the space makes way for Elisheba Ittoop's sound design, which pairs the natural, sans-microphone vocal performances with eerie a capella lullabies, the insidiously maddening drone from the quarry creeping throughout, from a subtle background hum to a piercing shriek. Burke Brown’s lighting and Gabriel Hainer Evansohn’s set design create a space that transforms through subtle, powerful shifts, from the metallic, prison-like confines of the schoolyard to a suggestion of the incongruously vast, beautiful expanse of the outback's open sky.
These elements weave together into an impressively immersive environment that is, in a word, scary. But Underland is the best kind of scary. It's the kind of scary that's so hard to describe but so easy to recognize. It's the kind of scary that you don't notice at first, that creeps in around the edges, capable of capturing the audience in its jaws and swallowing them whole.
by Emily Galwak for Stage Buddy
Rasmussen is both a dangerous and erotic presence
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| Jens Rasmussen & Georgia Cohen |
In this landscape, a school is the one place that offers the possibility of something unusual happening. And waiting for that unusual thing are two school girls, Ruth and Violet. Violet is small town mean girl, playing at being a rebel. Ruth is her long time friend and co-conspirator, happy to be part of a group but always worried about the consequences. Angeliea Start as Violet and Kiley Lotz as Ruth bring these characters effortlessly to life. They both want, desperately, for something to happen in this tiny hamlet. And something does.
Two strangers arrive at school. The first, Miss Harmony, is a new Art Teacher that spies promise and talent in Violet. They slowly begin a mentor relationship that gives Violet hope for a better life. Georgia Cohen gives life to Miss Harmony, a teacher hoping to reach her students. Violet responds well to the attention of this new, enthusiastic teacher. However Miss Harmony has another vying for her attention, the school alpha-male teacher, Mr. B. As portrayed by Jens Rasmussen, Mr. B is both a dangerous and erotic presence.
Ruth finds her own stranger in the form of Taka, a Japanese salary-man who arrives in the middle of nowhere via a tunnel from Tokyo. Taka is confused and lost, but Ruth is ecstatic to have found something completely new. Daniel Issac as Taka does an amazing job by pretty rapidly helping the audience move past the bizarreness of his appearance in Australia and care about this man. But Ruth has a competitor for attentions of Taka, the long widowed Mrs. Butterfat. Mrs. Butterfat is excellently played by the veteran Annie Golden; she walks Mrs. Butterfat right to the line of caricature, without going over.
If this makes Underland seem confusing, just wait. Writer Alexandra Collier throws in salt-water crocodiles in subterranean rivers, late night biking, a killer in thrall to the hum of the earth and ruminations on the choices we make when growing up. The result is often confusing but always involving. Director Mia Rovegno never lets the story slip into farce or fantasy, always preferring an honesty that someone makes the whole story hang together.
I am not sure I understood Underland, but I am sure that I am rooting for Violet and Ruth to make the right choices. And that engagement with characters makes for a satisfying trip to the theater.
See original review at Whats on Off Broadway.
Jens Rasmussen is quite striking
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| Jens Rasmussen & Georgia Cohen |
Following this ugly display, the play switches gears, focusing for a while on Ruth and Violet, a pair of adolescent girls who dabble in smoking pot and gossiping maliciously about everyone they know. Violet is the prettier, more dominant one, to whom Ruth anxiously kowtows, but they make a perfectly matched pair of hellions, amusing themselves by sitting in the back of art class and making annoying meowing sounds while their new teacher tries to introduce herself.
The teacher, Miss Harmony (Collier favors names right out of Restoration comedy), is new to town; in one of the play's sharpest, funniest passages, her easygoing, let's-be-friends manner is contrasted with the scalding, hard-ass approach of the gym and math teacher, Mr. B. ("You're like flaccid wombats, the lot of you," he says, offering his own special brand of motivation.) It's not long before a little B-Harmony romance is in the air; at the risk of giving away too much, let's just say that she discovers that passion has its price.
Then there's Taka, a Japanese salaryman sitting in his Tokyo office, listening to exercise audios and playing with his tamagotchi, a tiny little digital pet that, in this case, meows like a kitten. He finds a hole in his floor and, getting inside, begins crawling along it until he exits -- in the Australian town inhabited by Ruth, Violet, et al.
As Ruth and Violet, Kiley Lotz and Angeliea Stark offer hair-raisingly accurate portraits of the kind of sullen, rebellious adolescent who makes one think fondly about reviving corporal punishment, but each of them gradually reveals layers of uncertainty that make them more than just caricatures. Jens Rasmussen is quite striking as the furious, tough-talking Mr. B., who harbors a powerful, all-consuming passion for Miss Harmony, and is also in possession of a terrible secret.
-Read the whole review by David Barbour at Lighting & Sound America
Rasmussen... brave, talented, absolutely perfect
I’m not even sure how to describe the show to you. The description I’d read doesn’t really tell the full story of what this play is. And I absolutely will not spoil it for you. But suffice it to say, what I thought I was going to see – a show about two out of work actors hired to trap gay men into arrests in the 1920s – is way understating it.
The friend who went with me – who is himself a brilliant actor – helped me understand the show in a different context. He said it was a show about acting. He’s right . . . but upon further reflection, I think that it is a show about truth. Raw, naked, intense, real, authentic truth and how that truth is experienced on stage and off by actors.
Jens Rasmussen and Michael McKeogh were absolutely perfect in their portrayals of multiple characters. There were jarring transitions but not once was I lost, thanks to the deft directoral hand of Kimberly Faith Hickman and the marvelous performances. These are brave actors, to be sure, and talented ones. I will be lining up to see them perform again.
The KNOW has another knock out hit with this show. If they can continue to produce MainStage masterpieces like PLUTO and THE TWENTIETH CENTURY WAY under the artistic leadership of Andrew Hungerford then they are going to be a force to be reckoned with. You should see this show – but don’t come unless you’re willing to work for it. It does pay off and in spades.
The 20th Century Way gets ★★★★ from League of Cincinnati Theatres
Panelists for the League of Cincinnati Theatres (LCT) have recognized Know Theatres The Twentieth Century Way with a 4 Star rating.
Long Beach, California, 1914. A scourge of homosexuality plagues the city.The Long Beach Police hire two actors to entrap gay men in the crime of “social vagrancy.” In an empty theatre, two actors meet while awaiting an audition. As tension between them mounts, they find themselves playing the story of a near forgotten piece of American history — a story from a time when people were prosecuted for daring to be themselves. But the truth of who these actors really are is slowly exposed as the story unzips.
Panelists called the play “a gem of a production” with a “fascinating, multilayered” script: “The Know Theater has another hit with The Twentieth Century Way.” Director Kimberly Faith Hickman was praised for “her fast-paced direction, for the balance between pathos and humor, and for making sure that the playwright’s thought-provoking points were emphasized.” Both lead actors in this two person play, Michael McKeough and Jens Rasmussen, were also commended: “A dazzling display of acting for both…McKeogh’s performance was clever, energetic, and at times created a level of empathy I haven’t felt in years at the theatre.”
REVIEW: The Twentieth-Century Way is an 85-minute Uninterrupted Tour de Force
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| Jens Rasmussen & Mike McKeogh |
When house lights dim and a play begins, every theatergoer prays to witness something that entertains, transports and, in the best cases, transforms. Every so often a play delivers all three, embracing and transcending theatrical form. Tom Jacobson’s The Twentieth-Century Way, receiving its regional premiere at Know Theatre of Cincinnati, does just that.
The Twentieth-Century Way is an 85-minute uninterrupted tour de force by actors Michael McKeogh and Jens Rasmussen. They play all the parts in the obscure yet true story of two out-of-work actors who go undercover to root out vice in Long Beach, Calif., in 1914. Their sting operation leads to the arrest of many prominent men in the community engaged in “social vagrancy” — gay behavior then against the law. Rasmussen, who has appeared in two previous Know productions (Skin Tight, Gruesome Playground Injuries), plays Warren, the confident “confidence man” who instigates the plot.
Chicago-based McKeogh makes his Know debut as Brown. They meet at a casting call, and to kill time they begin a conversation that leads to an improvisation comprising this play within a play.
New York-based Kimberly Faith Hickman, who has worked on Broadway and off-Broadway productions (she served as assistant director for The Assembled Parties, The Scottsboro Boys and Clybourne Park) directs an impeccable production that has been meticulously designed to allow the powerful performances and fantastic writing to lead you easily through the theatrical and metaphysical complexities of the play. The first moments are a tad dense and slow, but they set up all the conventions needed for this highly layered experience. A reflection on identity, sexuality and the “acting” we need to do to survive, the play unfolds itself as the actors reveal themselves all the way down to the bare flesh of truthful intimacy.
Eric Vosmeier, Know’s outgoing artistic director, passed the torch to his incoming counterpart Andrew Hungerford (who also contributed the gorgeous scenic and lighting design for this play) during the curtain speech and indicated this was more Hungerford’s play than his. This bodes well for the future of Know, a theater that has earned its keep over and over against the odds. The Twentieth-Century Way is precisely the reason why Know Theatre is worth supporting long into the future.
REVIEW: The Twentieth-Century Way... Everything That's Exciting About The Theater
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| Jens Rasmussen & Mike McKeogh |
In 1914, America was a very different place. World War I was occurring across the globe. The economy was on the verge of an upswing. And the boom of cities was just beginning. All of these shifts, of course, set the stage for some very real social change. One facet of this evolution was the nation’s relationship to (and sometimes-public conversation about) homosexuality, something still discussed and debated nearly 100 years later.
The Twentieth-Century Way is a deceptively simple play — the entirety of which is performed by two actors on one set. This is where they uniquely and intelligently delve into the issue of America's perspective on homosexuality in the early 1900s.
The play's depth and originality is apparent from the outset. When first entering the theater, audience members find a man pacing impatiently around the stage. Little did we know that the play had already begun. The man, we soon find out, is Mr. Brown (played by Michael McKeogh) and he is simply waiting for an audition. By the time the lights dim to (officially) start the play, two hours have passed for him.
In walks Mr. Warren (played by Jens Rasmussen), a mysterious character who joins Mr. Brown in the waiting game of an audition. To pass the time, Mr. Warren suggests to Mr. Brown that they test each other through one long impromptu performance. This exercise, however, is more than just a game, it's the equivalent of an arm wrestling competition to test one's machoism.
Mr. Warren starts their role-playing with a scenario that’s quite familiar to most actors: the need to find outside work for money. The jobs that Mr. Warren suggests, though, are nowhere near the traditional forms of work we would expect — even at the turn of the century.
Their hypothetical work begins with a job examining the zipper on everyday pairs of pants. Mr. Warren notes that these pants create easy access for men to perform certain acts on one another, in both public bathrooms and their personal homes. He then suggests to Mr. Brown (who is portraying a police officer), that they would be able to find as many “social vagrants” as possible and bring them to the cops.
This play-within-a-play action continues, becoming the driving force of the production. What was truly impressive was how deftly each of the actors managed and executed the large variety of characters they embodied. In a matter of minutes, the audience would witness them switch between cops, reporters, gay men, and then back to their original characters. Each of these character-switches was done flawlessly, utilizing slight accents or costume changes designed to help the audience distinctly differentiate between the roles.
The Twentieth-Century Way showcases everything that's exciting about the theater: talented thespians, powerful character development, unique perspectives on relevant issues, and subtle (but hilarious) humor. The Know Theatre's production is not only an insightful and imaginative trip into history, it's also an opportunity to reflect on the America of 2014.
20th Century Way Review: Rasmussen... Touching, Abusive, Dizzying
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| Jens Rasmussen & Mike McKeogh |
"Rasmussen and McKeogh largely disappear into the sea of characters. Just when you're certain that one of them is dominant, the dramatic tide turns. And then turns again. They strut and prance and glower and hustle. They're touching and insensitive and abusive and ... well, they go through more emotional shifts than there is room to describe here. It's dizzying, right up to the final moments, when Jacobson offers us the most surprising dramatic twist of all."
Full review below:
"The Twentieth-Century Way" starts awkwardly. It's 1914 and two actors – Mr. Brown and Mr. Warren – have shown up to audition for the same film role.
Maybe the situation is supposed to feel awkward. But it also feels forced. You want actors to act, of course. But you don't want it to look like they're acting. You want it to seem "real," whatever that means when you have two people in period costumes standing in front of a paying audience. How real can it be?
Playwright Tom Jacobson's "The Twentieth-Century Way," which opened Friday at the Know Theatre, is a history play. But it's not one that leads you through the plot from point A to point B to point C. In fact, it is told in such an eccentric manner – "convoluted" is too negative a word – that you're never quite sure what story you're watching.
Is it about the two actors in 1914? Or the two actors in 2014? Or is it about the dozens of other characters whose lives intersect with the story? Or is it something else altogether?
Historically speaking, we know that Brown and Warren, played by Michael McKeogh and Jens Rasmussen, respectively – hired themselves out to the Long Beach, Calif., police department to capture "social vagrants." That was a favored description for gay men, particularly those seeking assignations in public places.
They wooed their marks, flirting, leading them on until they had enough evidence – or not – to have them arrested. Never mind that Brown and Warren were the initiators of the crime.
The story itself is only a small part of this play. There is a curious and increasingly mesmerizing symbiosis between the two men. Are they themselves gay? Or are they just desperate for work? Or are they driven by some twisted desire for power? Or something else?
Sometimes Jacobson's script zips around so quickly that it's hard to quite know when one of the main characters morphs into someone else. At one point, they even drift into the script of "Othello."
Fortunately, director Kimberly Faith Hickman devises all manner of guides to shepherd us through the tale: a change of lights, a flower in a lapel, a pair of glasses. And then, of course, there are her actors. Rasmussen and McKeogh largely disappear into the sea of characters. Just when you're certain that one of them is dominant, the dramatic tide turns. And then turns again. They strut and prance and glower and hustle. They're touching and insensitive and abusive and ... well, they go through more emotional shifts than there is room to describe here. It's dizzying, right up to the final moments, when Jacobson offers us the most surprising dramatic twist of all.
"The Twentieth-Century Way" is not a play for lazy theatergoers. You can't sit back and just let bits of entertainment wash over you. That's a legitimate theatergoing experience, too. But this is a play where you need to focus and keep up with everything that unfolds in front of you. If you do, you'll be richly rewarded.
By David Lyman and originally published by The Cincinnati Enquirer
Reviews: I Came to Look for You on Tuesday at La MaMa
✯✯✯✯
The piece is wonderfully tidy; its stories don't end happily, yet somehow we leave having been swept clean.
Every fiber of this production seems to have been crafted in true collaborative spirit.
Rasmussen’s Tom... was mesmerizing. Not since 1976 have I seen such a blurring between the romantic and the violent
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| 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.
Rasmussen... projects bone-deep familiarity and intimacy
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
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.
Gorgeous language.. you want to touch or smell or be what’s on the other side of every word.
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| 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.
Rasmussen...utterly convincing
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| 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.
Rasmussen gives a breathtaking (and incredibly carnal) performance.
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.
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