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Production gets to essential truths of ‘Proof’ By Dorothy Velasco For The Register-Guard |
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Proof, the Pulitzer and Tony award-winning play by David Auburn, is a mystery, a love story, and evidence, if not scientific proof, of mankind’s ability to learn and express compassion. Now playing at the Soreng Theatre, the first-rate Willamette Repertory Theatre production directed by Pat Patton is thoroughly absorbing. Although the title refers in part to the mathematical proof of a new theory, you don’t even need to know how to balance your checkbook to enjoy this thoughtful, touching show. Proof hinges on the difficult relationship between Robert, a schizophrenic, and his 25-year-old daughter and caretaker, Catherine. Robert, who recently died but still talks to Catherine, had been a renowned mathematical genius at the University of Chicago. Sadly, he peaked at age 23 and later slipped into madness, spending his final years writing meaningless formulas in more than 100 notebooks. Robert’s wife died young, and Catherine, his younger daughter, felt duty bound to drop out of college to care for him. Although Catherine is severely depressed, sometimes spending days in bed, the central pleasure of her life is math, which her father taught her since childhood. Now Robert’s funeral is imminent, and his officious elder daughter, Claire, has flown in from New York to take charge of arrangements and tell Catherine how to lead her life. Hal, a former graduate student of Robert’s, is going through his notebooks to see if he was able to do any legitimate work during his madness. Among all the gibberish he finds a brilliant 40-page proof. Did Robert write it? If not, who did? Hal and Catherine seem to be falling in love, but when she tells him she wrote the proof, he can’t believe it’s possible. Hal, at 28, knows he’ll never be a star, but at least he has his doctorate. Claire tells him that although Catherine is a dropout she inherited some of her father’s genius. If she did write the proof, she’ll have a terrific battle ahead of her as she tries to overcome the historical prejudice against women in science. Meanwhile, the term “proof,” applied to the relationships among the four characters, represents how people prove their trust, respect and love -- never simple even in the best of times. How do we pay our debts to family and those we love? How do we forgive and get beyond the wrongs we do to each other? These are the themes that give the play such value, and which veteran director Patton and his excellent cast elucidate so well. The play is delightfully witty. And Patton knows how to let the humor roll out naturally but often unexpectedly. The actors are all up to the task. Wesley Bishop, formerly with the Oregon Shakespeare Festival, convincingly conveys Robert’s warmth and intelligence during his good times, and his belligerence and fears during his pitifully mad times. Kate Cook, in her Willamette Rep debut, is dazzling as Catherine, so depressed from the grueling task of caring for her father that she believes she may have inherited not only his genius but also his madness. She can be furious at the other characters, and rightfully so, but she manages to pull herself out of anger. Quinn Mattfeld, a former Eugene resident now working in New York, is charming as Hal. He is so eager to be liked, so desirous to make amends and find the truth, that we forgive him his petty lack of imagination. Megan Smith, Willamette Rep alum who now lives in San Francisco, is very funny as the rigid, manipulative Claire, with her precious little gestures and smirks. She stands ramrod straight, and even her clothes are stiff. All of the actors are wonderfully engaged with each other, using subtle body language to convey their constantly evolving emotions. Nadya Geras-Carson’s set design is ingenious and symbolic. We see the back porch and back side of a decrepit two-story house. Like Robert, it’s falling apart, with whole sections entirely missing and other pieces seeming to float in space. The evocative lighting is by Michael Peterson, the sound by Jim Rusby and costumes by Maiya Becker. Dorothy Velasco, a Springfield playwright, reviews theater for The Register-Guard. |
Season arrives with a fine "Christmas Carol" By Richard Leinaweaver For The Register-Guard |
 The turkeys having been thanked, the credit cards having been "Black-Fridayed," the lights having all been turned on, can "nutcracker," "Wonderful Life," The Grinch," "Tuna Christmas" and "A Christmas Carol" be far behind?Eugene-Springfield audiences can soon see all of these (except "Tuna Christmas") on local stages. The Willamette Repertory Theatre got a leg up on the season, opening David McCann's adaptation of Charles Dickens' novelette, "A Christmas Carol" last weekend in the Hult Center's Soreng Theatre. "Christmas Carol" is the story of a cold-hearted, penurious, curmudgeonly old skinflint whose only pleasure seems to lie in the accumulation and counting of money. Ebenezer Scrooge has no relatives, no friends, no associates with whom he even exchanges pleasant greetings. He also feels no empathy, compassion, sympathy or generosity toward anyone. Not exactly an easy protagonist for the audience to identify with. Everyone else is living in or near poverty. Victorian London is a filthy place. December coal burning creates blankets of soot, which may be the inspiration for the gray basic costumes of the non-principals. A few more smudges and less ironing might keep them from resembling bus drivers. In spite of these difficulties, Bob Cratchit and his wife, played with only slightly sad resignation by Frank Muhr and Janet Steiger-Carr, were convincing "merry Christmasers" whose children shared their rare full dinner with joy. They all pity Cratchit's employer (Scrooge) but wish him good tidings anyway. Guest artist Richard Elmore is a convincing Scrooge whose inability to understand anything except commerce almost forbids Cratchit a Christmas day off work. In his lonely, dark rooms ("dark is Cheap") he tucks himself in to sleep, and is soon awakened by strange sounds and music announcing a visitation of the ghost of Marley, his recently deceased partner. Marley, you see, was the same kind of miserly skinflint that Scrooge is, and because of that he is doomed to wander the Earth for eternity. And just to make sure you understand, Marley informs him, three other ghostly visitors will be visiting you this Christmas Eve. Scrooge is subsequently visited by the Ghost of Christmas Past, an impressive giant puppet who shows Scrooge his youth. Then the splendidly decorated Ghost of Christmas Present shows Scrooge how others happily share Christmas joy. Finally, the deathly Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come appears. Scrooge sees his death, alone and unmourned, his goods stolen by scavengers. Scrooge decides he must change. The transformation seems rather sudden in this production. Scrooge does not evince the abject terror that normally results from visitations from other worlds. In fact he challenges them and asks questions, almost debating them. And when the conversion is complete, not only does he lose his tight-fisted curmudgeonliness, but also about 30 years of his age. He hops, dances, leaps about and hugs everyone in sight, bestowing gifts and Merry Christmas greetings. Marley's ghost and the three Spirits, as Dickens calls them, hint of pagan magic and witchcraft, especially the wreath-bedecked Christmas Present. Jerry Williams' giant puppets and their three operator/actors, Helene Morse, Richard Leebrick and Scott Shirk respectively, are the visual hits of the show. Emily Gilbert, Mindy Linder, Benjamin Newman and Caleb Pruitt make up the rest of the talented cast who, except for Elmore's Scrooge, play multiple roles in the fast moving scenes. Norm Spencer's stage setting is a grim, massive building with doors, stairs and balcony that facilitate easy change from scene to scene. Heather DeBey's costumes were class and period perfect, once the "uniforms" were covered. The Story Theatre style of a constant mix of dialogue and narration was occasionally confusing. But it allowed the story to be told in mostly Dickens' own words. Artistic Director Kirk Boyd reminds us that this is the first play Willamette Rep has ever brought back to the Soreng Theatre for another run. While interesting, the play does not appear to be the cash-cow that all performing groups hope for at Yuletide, at least as indicated by Saturday night's modest attendance. |
More Joy, Bigger Ghosts Willamette Rep brings back the holiday classic BY ANNA GRACE For the Eugene Weekly |
 An ensemble of storytellers clad in gray gathers slowly on stage, eerie music muting their greetings and a light mist scuttling across the boards. That's the cool and magical beginning to Willamette Rep's second annual production of A Christmas Carol. The show is spiced up from last year with singing, humor and bigger ghost scenes, but audience members are still treated to a version that doesn't skimp on Dickens' rich language or moral weight.Director Kirk Boyd emphasizes the theatricality of David McCann's faithful, wordy script. There are 10 actors continually changing roles and serving as narrators, juggling words and action. Theatricality comes naturally to most of the ensemble. Helene Morse and Scott Shirk are particularly adept at developing characters and connecting with the audience. Yet the emphasis on play is at times overdone. Benjamin Newman is highly entertaining, but he seems overly conscious of this fact and monopolizes audience attention by being a little too interesting. A Christmas Carol faces challenges in any adaptation. The complete transformation of a human soul in less than two hours is hard to do, even if you do have three spirits helping you along. Richard Elmore, who plays only Ebenezer Scrooge, is a wonderful curmudgeon. He faces fear, death and humiliation with drama. He gives to the poor with cheer, but he doesn't change enough from one man to another. In the whirlwind of words and movement, Scrooge should take a few moments of reflection. In the end, it is the humanity of the ensemble that draws the audience into the show. Mindy Linder's performance is honest; from her delight in wordplay at the ensemble's introduction to a beautiful scene as Scrooge's once-loved Belle, she keeps faith with Dickens. Richard Leebrick looks and feels like a spooky Dickens denizen. Caleb Pruitt as Tiny Tim is adorable as is Frank Muhr as his hardworking, downtrodden father. Left from last year's bleaker version of the same script are the set and some costumes. I appreciate Boyd's decision to keep Norm Spencer's set simple and let the audience use their imaginations. Lighting director Michael Peterson helps people know where to look and how to feel, but the lighting is sparse as well. Heather DeBey's costumes are key in helping the actors play multiple roles. Beginning with a simple, nearly modern base, actors add skirts, frock coats, mobcaps and other pieces to change quickly and without fuss. DeBey does this excellent work on a shoestring. It wouldn't be surprising to find her doing excellent work with an actual shoestring, but if WillRep is to make a yearly go of Carol, I would like to see them invest more in the high quality, conscientiously tailored costumes associated with professional theater. Much has been made of Boyd's luck and skill in nabbing Oregon Shakespeare Festival's resident sound designer Todd Barton. Barton is a man who admits he derives great pleasure in "finding strange sounds on a daily basis," such as the haunted echo of chains dropped against an old oil tank. I listened for old oil tanks but only heard the sounds of ghosts and early industrial London. His work helped fill in some of the theatrical gaps left by the simplicity of the show. Technical and wardrobe showmanship were saved for the ghosts, who were a big, snazzy splash against the clean and simple production. The contrast jarred me; I didn't always like it. But Scrooge didn't seem to like it either, so perhaps that was the point. The play is still a little bleak. It's Dickens. With such inherent bleakness, it may seem like an odd choice for a Christmas tradition. What Boyd has offered us in this staging of Carol is a journey to joy. Unlike other holiday events, where I often leave feeling I've been beaten over the head with the Yule log of cheer, this play allows me to find cheer on my own terms. There is probably more Scrooge than Tiny Tim in most of us, and this production of A Christmas Carol is refreshing as a holiday activity. We are allowed to think our way into the meaning of Christmas, to judge, reflect and redeem ourselves along with Ebenezer Scrooge. |
Drama full of thought-provoking questions By Dorothy Velasco For The Register-Guard Published: Monday, September 24, 2007 |
 Intriguing. That's the word I heard all around me after the opening night performance of "A Body of Water" at the Soreng Theatre. I used the word myself. Willamette Repertory Theatre is presenting the Oregon premiere of this new drama by Lee Blessing. Kirk Boyd, Willamette Rep artistic director and director of the play, has worked with Blessing over the years, and he is knowledgeable about his style and intent. Blessing is one of our most highly regarded playwrights. but he's hardly a household name. His best known play is A Walk in the Woods, in which diplomats from opposing countries find a personal connection. A Body of Water is reminiscent of Edward Albee's Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? and Jean Paul Sartre's No Exit. In fact, if you saw this play without knowing who wrote it, you might guess it was by Albee. When the play opens we meet a middle-age man and woman in bathrobes. They are disturbed. They have been sleeping in the same bed, but they don't know each other. They don't even know their own names or what they do. They are in a simple, lovely summer home with large windows revealing the surrounding woods. All around them is a body of water. They can't tell if it's a river, lake or sea. They can't see the far shore. They could be in an Edward Hopper painting, so lonely and isolated, or they could have Alzheimer's, although the word isn't spoken. Onto the scene bursts a young woman, full of abrasive life. They think she might be their daughter, but she claims to be their lawyer. She shows them their IDs. The woman is named Avis and the man is Moss. The young woman is Wren. Wren tells them they're married, but they can't be sure. She tells them they wake up every day not knowing who they are. She could tell them anything. They have no memory of a shared past, or any past beyond brief flashes. Why are they like this? Blessing keeps us involved by suggesting countless questions and providing no answers we can trust. Who are these people? Are they alive or dead? Is Moss imagining Avis, who may have died years ago, or is she imagining Moss? Are they both imagining Wren? Is Wren imagining them? Are they waiting to be born? If "No Exit" is an interpretation of hell, then "A Body of Water" must be purgatory. Wren seems to expose heartbreaking secrets that the man and woman have kept from each other, but we don't know if she's telling the truth. Moss and Avis appear to be well mannered, educated and affluent. We grow to like them, just because they're trying to be decent and maintain dignity in these most difficult of circumstances. But it's quite possible that they've grievously harmed each other. People do that without ever revealing it to the world. Like a haiku, A Body of Water is deceptively slim. Most lies below the surface, and what we glimpse under water is usually distorted. Since the house is surrounded by water, the play could be performed in the round, and Boyd has directed the actors to focus in all directions from the airy, open set by Troy Hemmerling. Mikel MacDonald is warm, natural and touching as Moss. Wren tells him he's a judge, and he does seem to weigh the issues fairly, deeply regretting his loss but trying to make the best of it. Janet Steiger Carr (Avis) speaks a bit like Katherine Hepburn. You can tell that Avis was once grandly confident, and the speech patterns have remained. Now, in spite of her decisive voice, she is wracked with doubts and displays occasional flares of anger. Amy Wray as Wren is sadistic in the first act and more daughter-like in the second. Of course, it's possible that she's still being sadistic even when she appears caring. Wray provides a spirited, youthful contrast to the troubled couple, and an edgy, unpredictable quality. However, some of her gestures are distracting. If you like plays that not only entertain you but keep you thinking for days, don't miss this one. I've certainly not finished thinking about it yet. Dorothy Velasco, a Springfield playwright, reviews theater for The Register-Guard. |
Technically speaking, 'stones' is brilliant By Dorothy Velasco For The Register-Guard Published: Tuesday, April 10, 2007 |
 "Stones in His Pockets," a contemporary Irish play now running at Willamette Repertory Theatre, is a welcome relief from the new wave of Irish theater that aims to shock with gory violence. This popular comedy by Marie Jones, a hit in the British Isles and New York, takes a good-hearted, forgiving look at the foibles of both rural Irish characters and Hollywood moviemakers. The two populations come together for our amusement on the green fields of Kerry County during the filming of a romantic epic. The tale is seen through the eyes of two of the film's extras, Jake Quinn (Jeff Pierce) and Charlie Conlon (Darragh Kennan). These two men in their early 30s are happy to work for 40 quid a day and plenty of grub. Jake has been to America, where he barely survived as a waiter. He thinks it's no worse to be back living with his mother on the dole. Charlie had a small video store but lost it when a big-time competitor came to town. Between the two of them, Jake and Charlie portray a baker's dozen of characters involved in the filming. Their transformations, performed instantly and expertly, are effected by the simple change of a hat or scarf. This type of acting requires absolute precision. Since most of the small roles are barely developed, we must recognize them by their distinct voices and posture. Both Pierce and Kennan offer superb performances of a wide variety of characters, including a woman for each of them. Pierce's transformations are quite astonishing. His Aisling, a young mother-hen type in red-framed glasses, is the funniest character in the play. As third assistant director, she speaks in a fluty British accent to kindly beg the extras to listen to her. Whenever she says, "Settle, please, settle," she has the audience in stitches. Then, with simply a hat, Pierce immediately turns into old Mickey, who claims to be one of the last surviving extras from the John Wayne film, "The Quiet Man." Mickey is doubled over, crotchety and often drunk. Kennan, a talented Seattle-based professional actor, has performed in this play before. One of his most memorable characters is Fin, a young friend of a troubled, drug-addicted youth. Somehow, and I don't know how he does it, he looks quite different as the sullen Fin. We don't know very much about this son of a dairy farmer, but we believe in the truth of the character. Kennan's other outstanding role is Caroline Giovanni, the American superstar (think Julia Roberts in "Michael Collins"). Caroline is such a phony as she talks about the spiritual attraction of Ireland. "I feel as if I'm coming home," she says, and we can see that she almost believes it, but only if nothing inconvenient interferes. The play turns serious in the second half, but because of its format we can't feel the pathos as much as we should. The constant character changes prevent us from sinking very deeply into the emotions of the plot because we're always marveling at the technique. This structure is fine for the comic parts but impedes a serious response. Director Kirk Boyd has guided the actors to create believable, sympathetic characters rather than caricatures. The roles are played for real, not for camp. Boyd helps distinguish the characters by using every inch of the stage, sometimes giving certain characters a distinct area as their own. Skip Hubbard's scenic design includes a whimsical painted backdrop representing green fields and the blue sea, showing Ireland at its cinematic best. Lighting by Michael Peterson also helps identify the characters. Sound designer Jim Rusby adds a dose of humor with soaring movie music while the extras perform for the filming. The simple tweedy costumes are by Renae Pedersen. Theatergoers should be aware that "Stones" includes strong language. Dorothy Velasco is a Springfield playwright who reviews theater for The Register-Guard |
A Story With Complications Willamette Rep shines with Glass Menagerie BY AARON RAGAN-FORE |
 Willamette Repertory Theatre's new production of The Glass Menagerie, Tennessee Williams' beloved "memory play," combines stellar direction and nuanced acting to produce a complex standout in the Eugene theater scene. In Depression-era St. Louis, moody poet Tom Wingfield slaves daily in a warehouse to support shy sister Laura and overbearing mother Amanda in the absence of a father who abandoned his family. Laura possesses a minor limp, and the inner handicap of her social anxiety has prevented Laura from attracting male attention. Amanda works tirelessly to secure a "gentleman caller" for Laura, seeking in matrimony not only a cure for the family's financial situation but a reconnection to the heady days of her own Mississippi youth, when the beaus, she says, were wont to line up on her doorstep. When Tom finally brings home a coworker to introduce to his sister, the family imbues the visit with a forceful, last-ditch hope for domestic happiness. Amanda Wingfield is one of the great grandes dames of American theater, leading to far too many underqualified actresses giving the character a shot and a predictable surfeit of melodramatic, faux-antebellum matriarchs. Pleasantly, veteran actress Michelle Morain provides a sensitivity and believability often pointedly missing from the role. The love for her children that supposedly drives the character is genuinely present in Morain's interpretation. In addition, this expatriate southerner enjoyed Morain's flawlessly genteel, biting Deep South accent and bearing, character traits that are often overacted. Morain is ably matched by a thoughtful cast of proficient actors, including Cameron Carlisle as the tortured Tom and Kimberly Bates as a suitably retiring Laura. Bates succeeds in a nuanced version of a character often relegated to one-note acting, providing depth and context for a realistic and affecting sibling dynamic with Carlisle. William Mark Hulings may have the most difficult job on stage. As a central symbolic figure, the much hoped-for gentleman caller, Hulings ably treads the line between iconic fantasy and unheeding reality. Hulings' expressive and affable Jim O'Connor lends a heartbreakingly earnest resonance to his scene with Bates, who demonstrates an admirable range portraying the emotions of a young woman beginning to believe once again in a long-dormant dream. Pat Patton's deft direction locates the action in a specific time and place, convincingly recreating the mores and motivations of prewar America. It's a concrete location for the tale's characters and passions, but with all the tangibility and decisiveness of a long-ago memory. "In these trying times we live in, all that we have to cling to is - each other," Amanda clucks at one point. That simple and caring sentiment, however, is betrayed by one of her later lines: "You can't have a story without complications." Willamette Rep's The Glass Menagerie is a satisfying tale of the promise of happiness, placed for a brief moment within reach of its protagonists' grasps, making those inevitable complications all the crueler and more poignant. - Aaron Ragan-Fore |
'Glass Menagerie' hasn't lost its brilliance By Dorothy Velasco For The Register-Guard Published: Tuesday, February 13, 2007 |
 If you enjoy going to the theater, you've probably seen "The Glass Menagerie" almost as often as you've seen "Romeo and Juliet," "Death of a Salesman" or "Our Town." You already know what's going to happen, so why see it again?
Well, for one thing, you've never seen it at your present age. Like all great works, the play speaks to us differently as we age and its messages resonate in a new way. Second, the language is so soulful, so richly poetic, that it bathes us in beauty. And lastly, you haven't seen the Willamette Repertory Theatre production. This is what Willamette Rep does best: intelligent, heartfelt productions of America's greatest plays. If you saw last year's comedy, "You Can't Take It With You," or the earlier production of "A Moon for the Misbegotten," both of which starred Michelle Morain, you know this theater is capable of hitting just the right notes. As a guest artist, Morain is a great boon to Willamette Rep. In this production you couldn't ask for a more satisfying or memorable interpretation of Amanda, the hard-pressed mother trying to guarantee a future for her grown children during the Depression in St. Louis. Even more important to the success of the production is director Pat Patton, a veteran of 32 years at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival. This is the first time he has directed at Willamette Rep, and let's hope he returns every year. Patton is a brilliant director whose magic touch would make any playwright grateful. As a memory play, filtered through the eyes of Tom Wingfield, "The Glass Menagerie" breaks the bounds of time and space. Everything comes to us in layers - layers of time, the qualities of the characters, and all their emotions. The play was Tennessee Williams' first great success. Inspired by his own family, he knows these characters to the core. The mother, Amanda, is loving but monstrous, sensitive but manipulative. Her husband abandoned the family years before (he was a telephone man who fell in love with long distances), and she's doing her best to make a respectable home of their dismal apartment. Her son Tom, who yearns to escape and find success as a poet, is stuck working at a warehouse for $65 a month. His sister Laura is pathologically shy and becomes physically ill when Amanda coerces Tom into bringing home a "gentleman caller" to meet her. Although Tom tells the family's story as a seaman in the merchant marine, most of it occurs in a slum apartment in St. Louis. The distant past, kept alive by Amanda, is just as real as the times presented onstage. Amanda constantly reminds her children, and Jim O'Connor, the "gentleman caller," that she once had 17 gentlemen callers in one day. When she puts on a ruffled ball gown from her youth, she is ridiculous, pathetic and luminous all at once. In such moments the play achieves the grandeur of classic tragedy. With only four characters in the play, we get to know them as well as some of our own friends and family members. Tom is based on Williams, and Cameron Carlisle is made to look like him, with a little mustache and a lock of loose hair. Carlisle is always compelling, offering the merest hint that Tom might be burdened with guilt and self-disgust as a closeted gay. Kimberly Bates does the best work I've seen from her as Laura, whose nervousness is painful to watch. Laura has reduced her world to her collection of glass animals and a few old Victrola records, and it's unlikely that she will ever be able to live a normal life. William Mark Hulings puts on the dazzle as Jim, a former high school star who was expected to rise to the top. Although working as a shipping clerk, he appears hopeful, telling about his night school courses in public speaking and radio engineering. Still, we can't help doubting his chances to succeed. In very pragmatic terms, all of these terribly sad people could be happier if they simply had more money. But then, Williams wouldn't have written this magnificent play and we would have missed a treasure of the American theater. Dorothy Velasco is a Springfield playwright who reviews theater for The Register-Guard. |
It's All in the Laughing All in the Timing will have you in stitches. BY MELISSA BEARNS - EUGENE WEEKLY 4/6/06  All In the Timing has so much witty wordplay, double entendre, twists of tongue and incredibly funny dialogue, if you don't like one of the six one-act shows that make up this play by David Ives, another is bound to get you laughing.If you're a fan of classic literature, you'll probably love the first sketch, Sure Thing, and the third, Words, Words, Words. In Sure Thing, Betty, played marvelously by Heather Persinger, sits in a café on a Friday night reading a book. Bill (William Mark Hulings) saunters by and casually attempts to engage her in conversation. Between this beginning, in which Betty bluntly rebuffs him, and the end, in which they're practically making wedding plans, is a series of retakes. Every time one of them says or does something that would end the conversation or lead to that uncomfortable silence that tells you it's time to move on, a bell rings and they start afresh, changing the exchange just enough that things continue to move forward. Each retake starts from the point where the conversation was last rolling along smoothly. Sometimes the bell rings after just a few words, sometimes after quite a few lines. Either way, Hulings and Persinger play off each other superbly, zinging the one-liners and imbuing everything from the friendly conversation to the verbal sparring with realness you can feel. What's so appealing about Sure Thing is that Persinger and Hulings perfectly capture those moments we've all experienced: Uncomfortable silence, the moment when a conversation that was going so well plummets like a lead balloon, and best of all, the moments in which we recognize common ground with another person. Why is Words, Words, Words so funny the laughter occasionally drowned out the actors? If you know classic literature, skip this next paragraph. But if you've never read the stuff, or it's been so long you don't remember a word, here's a refresher. First of all, the characters are monkeys being used in an experiment to prove or disprove randomness, and are named after three famous writers: Swift (Jeff Pierce), Kafka (Persinger) and Milton (Hulings). They're kept captive in a large cage with typewriters to see if, randomly, they'll type up Shakespeare's Hamlet. They spend a lot of time typing gibberish, fighting and philosophizing, each one subtly representing the world outlook of his or her namesake. But at one point Milton reads what he's written: "Of Man's first disobedience and whose mortal taste brought death into the ." - the first line of the real Milton's Paradise Lost. Then go from the prose of Milton to monkey Milton's next line, "blammagam, bedsocks, knockwurst, tinkerbelle." While not everyone in the crowd got that monkey Milton really was "writing" Milton, or the fact that in the end Kafka actually does start writing Hamlet (oh, the irony), the in-your-face digs at high-falutin' educational institutions are hard to miss. Kafka jokes about "publish or perish," while they ridicule the Columbia University pedigree of the scientist running the experiment. The same four actors appear throughout the six acts, showcasing both their versatility and tremendous talent. As the scam-artist-turned-good-guy in Universal Language, Jeff Pierce once again proves his keen ability to deliver a message that transcends the actual words. As the other character, Dawn, Kimberly Bates captures the sweet naiveté and fragileness of her character stunningly. This play is a clever mishmash of sounds and words that create a completely understandable gibberish language, Unamunda, which if you translated it would mean "One World." Read the "symbols" on the wall carefully, because it's no accident Ives put a message about trust as the backdrop to this heartwarming sketch. The Philadelphia is also sidesplittingly funny, playing on stereotypes of different U.S. cities and the attitudes of the people who live in them. And the repetitions of sound and rhythm in Philip Glass Buys a Loaf of Bread, and the way the same 20 or so words are used in varying order to convey different messages, is pure genius. Hats off to director Kirk Boyd for producing one the best plays of the season. Run, don't walk, to get your ticket. Whatever you do, don't miss this one. |
Production of Ives' one-act plays persuasively rings the bells By Richard Leinaweaver The Register-Guard Published: Sunday, April 2, 2006 The first piece, "Sure Thing," takes place in a coffee shop where a nice young man attempts to meet a nice young woman in a time-honored, naturalistic conversational fashion: "This chair taken?" "Excuse me?" "Is this taken?" "Yes, it is." "Oh, sorry." "Sure thing." But then a bell rings, and, like some omnipotent force pressing a reset button, the moment begins again. And again. And again - until they do it right and he joins her at the table. There follows exploration of their mutual (or not) interests. William Mark Hulings and Heather Persinger demonstrate impeccable comic timing and incredible technique when called upon to begin each new mini-segment with precisely the same lines, gestures and actions as the previous one. Forty belled restarts later, all ends well. "Universal Language" features a lonely, stuttering girl who responds to an ad for classes in Unamundo, a new artificial language which "will unite all humankind." Unfortunately, Unamundo is a con game to swindle money from idealistic dummies. Don, played with the exuberance of a used car salesman by Jeff Pierce, speaks only the artificial language, made up of bits of German, Spanish, Malaprops, French, Russian and nonsense syllables. Dawn, played convincingly by Kimberly Bates, hesitates. But the con man's charm and persuasion, without one word of English, begins to teach her the language. Dawn learns fast. Her stutter disappears. Her shyness is gone. Soon they are rattling off a dialogue of pure Unomundial gibberish, which requires precise pantomimic and inflexional expression by the actors in order for the audience to get it. Mostly, we do. Would an infinite number of chimps typing on an infinite number of typewriters eventually write Hamlet? "Words, Words, Words" has Hulings, Persinger and Pierce as monkeys named Milton, Swift and Kafka. They know that they are part of this experiment, but they don't know what a Hamlet is. They struggle with their "jobs." They quarrel. They rebel. The actors, especially Hulings, perform the primate strut, swinging, banana eating and scratching to a T. We return from intermission to "Philip Glass Buys A Loaf Of Bread," a spoof of modern musical excess exemplified by the compositions of Philip Glass. It is a virtuoso piece of coordinated words, movement, singing and choreography created by Director Kirk Boyd and his talented foursome. It is no more, no less, than theatrical variations on the theme of its title. "The Philadelphia" describes Al's being lost in a reality called "a Philadelphia," where nothing that you order or want is available. His friend, Mark, is in "a Los Angeles," where everything is cool, laid back and available. Mark teaches Al how to cope with "a Philadelphia" by ordering opposites to the waitress. Sledgehammer humor, but with nice subtleties by Huling and Bates. The final playlet, "Variations On The Death Of Trotsky," employs the reset bell convention again. We learn from an encyclopedia entry read by Mrs. Trotsky that Leon Trotsky, the Bolshevist theorist was murdered on this date by a Spanish assassin. As his wife points this out to him in each "variation," he dies. Thence the bell, the reset, and the new scene. Hulings, as Trotsky, performs all five "scenelets," with an ice-ax impaled in his head. Skip Hubbard's setting was amazingly appropriate for most of the scenes and did not intrude on the others, thanks largely to the fine focus of Michael Peterson's lighting. Maiya Becker's costumes were fun. Director Boyd assembled a fine cast to take us on this trip to alternate universes. Not Saturday Night Live, but not Hamlet either. Richard Leinaweaver is a professor emeritus of theater arts. |
It's What's Inside That Matters Cyrano is still a timely tale of love. BY SHARLEEN NELSON As humans, we all harbor insecurities about the way we look. That's why Edmond Rostand's classic story of soldier, poet and philosopher Cyrano de Bergerac, whose colossal nose stands in the way of winning the love of the fair Roxanne, resonates with most people. Desperately in love with Roxanne, Cyrano is reluctant to reveal his true feelings fearing that she will reject him because of his large nose. Unaware of his love, Roxanne is taken with the handsome, but intellectually challenged Christian. With Christian's looks and Cyrano's poetic way with words, they conspire to make the perfect hero and woo Roxanne. Although the nose is a prominent theme in Willamette Repertory Theatre's production of Cyrano based on Jo Roets' adaptation, the play is by and large a love story. In today's fast-paced world where entertainment and commercials bombard our senses with dazzling images of what love is supposed to be and where celebrity love lives seem far more interesting than our own, Cyrano reminds us that love is more than a gesture, more than a kiss. It reminds us that many of us have lost the language of love - the clever sweet nothings and well-chosen metaphors to express it. He reminds us too that love can really hurt. It's all about the love story in this pared down version comprising only three actors, who are always on stage changing costumes and characters. Eliminating the need for an elaborate set that might detract from the character-driven nature of the play, light and shadow set the tone. Additionally, the audience gets the added bonus of watching the actors create all the sound effects at stage right. Who knew that a stainless steel bowl and a kitchen gadget could perfectly mimic a sword fight? In the role of Cyrano, John Schmor delivers beautifully Cyrano's wit and prose while providing the audience with a sympathetic character of great strength. He epitomizes the play's premise that inner beauty can be overlooked when the focus is on outer beauty. Gina Daniels is exceptional as Roxanne. From her portrayal of the youthful and coquettish love-struck girl to the mature woman in mourning, Daniels captures the pure essence of her character. Likewise, from Roxanne's outlandish and creepy suitors De Guiche, a baker and a monk, to the earnest Christian, William Mark Hulings captures the diverse personalities of his many characters and demonstrates his inimitable talent for physical comedy. provides the lovely music; the accurate costumes are by Alexandra Bonds, and the evocative lighting is by Michael Peterson. |
Willamette Rep hits 'Cyrano' on the nose By Dorothy Velasco For The Register-Guard Published: Monday, January 30, 2006 When "Cyrano de Bergerac" had its premiere in Paris in 1897, it was an enormous overnight success. Spectators immediately took the lead character to their hearts. With his oversized nose and his generous heart, he became world famous and remains so to this day. Now, more than 100 years later, the play by Edmond Rostand is still performed by well-endowed theater companies such as the Oregon Shakespeare Festival, but it's showing its age. It is long, sometimes tedious, and requires a huge cast. There have been various film versions of the play, including ones starring Steve Martin and Gerard Depardieu, but now a stage adaptation by a Belgian author, Jo Roets, puts a refreshing new spin on the venerable tale. This new "Cyrano," focusing intently on the love story and slicing away most of the swashbuckling action, features just three actors. "Cyrano" offers us an unusual love triangle, one in which no character hates or struggles against another. In fact, the three main characters are exceptionally humane. In a sweet, thoughtful and highly theatrical production by Willamette Repertory Theatre, now playing in the Soreng Theatre at the Hult Center, director Kirk Boyd has decided to portray the main characters as believable grown-ups who behave decently and who choose self-sacrifice for the benefit of the others. Cyrano is a young nobleman, a poet-soldier-philosopher who excels at everything he does, except when it comes to wooing the woman he loves. His problem is his nose - large, ugly and deformed. It may not really be as large and ugly as he believes, but since he perceives it as such, his costume includes an exaggerated stage nose. Cyrano is in love with his cousin Roxane, a sprightly, intelligent young woman who values poetry as much as he does. Roxane, alas, has fallen in love at first sight with Christian, a handsome new recruit in Cyrano's military outfit. Christian, good-hearted and loyal, is sincere about wooing Roxane, but he lacks the verbal and written skills she expects from a suitor. When Cyrano realizes he himself doesn't have a chance with his cousin, and neither will Christian if he doesn't get literary help, he decides to write letters for Christian that will clinch the deal. Together they make one perfect suitor. Eventually Christian comes to learn that Roxane would love him even if he were hideously ugly. It is his marvelous words that she loves, his spirit as she perceives it. He understands it is not really he whom she loves but rather Cyrano. Like Cyrano, he sacrifices his love for the sake of his friend and for the happiness of the woman they both love. In this story happiness is illusive and brief, but rapturous while it lasts. Because poetry is so central to the theme and style of "Cyrano," the pleasing set by Norm Spencer features a backdrop of an enlarged manuscript covered with graceful, handwritten words. A two-story stage-within-a-stage is the focal point of all the action, reminding us that this is a play.The three actors make minor set changes before our eyes. At one side of the stage we see into the wings, where "offstage" actors create the sound effects by shaking a thunder sheet or walking on a box of gravel. The convincing sound effects for a sword fight are created by touching a steel rod to a steel bowl. John Schmor as Cyrano, Gina Daniels as Roxane and William Mark Hulings as Christian all create satisfying, genuine characters. Hulings also plays a number of lesser characters, who are mostly caricatures. It's as if the three leads are the only real characters in the play. Schmor as Cyrano earns the most sympathy. The story is his, after all, and he's an irresistible character, able to write a poem while fighting a duel, and capable of holding off a hundred ruffians - all in a night's work. But what's most important is his loving, tender soul. Todd Barton, composer at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival, provides the lovely music; the accurate costumes are by Alexandra Bonds, and the evocative lighting is by Michael Peterson. Springfield playwright Dorothy Velasco reviews theater for The Register-Guard. |
This highly theatrical re-telling of one of the world's great love stories features just three actors playing all of the roles. Onstage throughout the performance, they also create all of the locales and provide all of the sound effects. Adapted to the stage by Jo Roets, this version comes from Brussels and is gaining popularity in America. Artistic Director Kirk M. Boyd will direct this imaginative and compelling play. David Ives is the master of the twenty-minute play and this collection contains six of his funniest, most clever and fastest-moving pieces. Five actors will portray over thirty characters in such language-based comedies such as Words, Words, Words, that features three chimpanzees in an experiment at Columbia trying to write Hamlet, Variations on the Death of Trotsky, and Philip Glass Buys a Loaf of Bread. Three compelling plays in three days in the intimate setting of Studio One. All seats are only $10. Friday, May 19th 8:00pm: I Have Before Me a Remarkable Document Given to Me by a Young Lady From Rwanda, by Sonja Linden. This two-character play tells the story of Juliette, a young refugee from Rwanda and her volunteer caseworker in the Refugee Centre in London. Saturday, May 20th 8:00pm: The Cocktail Party written by T.S. Eliot in 1949 revolves around the life of the reluctant host of a cocktail party held in his London flat. As the play unfolds we learn, from a mysterious man who seems to know too much about his life, that his wife if about to leave him. He must face qualities in himself and his friends in order to unravel the mystery. Sunday, May 21st 2:00pm: Oregon Ghosts by Portland playwright Donald Olson, contains three stories based on legendary Oregon spirits. The stories travel around the state, from a lighthouse on the coast to the dust and heat of the Eastern Oregon desert. You may purchase tickets to these events in four convenient ways:
Founded by Artistic Director (and native Eugenean) Kirk M. Boyd, Willamette Rep is now in its seventh season of operation. Mr. Boyd brings with him twenty-five years of professional theatre experience, including seventeen years with the Tony Award winning Oregon Shakespeare Festival. Using local actors in combination with professional (both union and non-union) talent from the region has become a calling card for the young company. For more information about Willamette Repertory Theatre please visit our website at www.willrep.org, or call the office at 343-9903 and speak with Kirk Boyd or General Manager Michael Peterson. |
The Theatre Willamette Repertory Theatre, a Resident Company of the Hult Center, is now in their seventh season. In November of 1999 the Willamette Repertory Theatre (Willamette Rep) opened its Premiere Season in the Soreng Theatre at the Hult Center for the Performing Arts in Eugene. As the only professional company between Portland and Ashland that has a contract with Actors' Equity (the professional actors' union), audiences are assured of a quality production and professional theatre experience. In the course of the six seasons, Willamette Rep has truly become a regional influence on theatre going audiences, playing to over 40,000 theatre enthusiasts including 13,000 middle and high school students. Attending the free student matinees were many first time theatergoers, including groups from Yoncalla High School and Douglas County Home School. Beyond local sectors, our audiences came from as far away as Lebanon, Halsey, Douglas County, Triangle Lake, Coos Bay, and Bandon. Founded by Artistic Director (and native Eugenean) Kirk M. Boyd, Willamette Rep is now in its sixth season of operation. Mr. Boyd brings with him twenty-five years of professional theatre experience, including seventeen years with the Tony Award winning Oregon Shakespeare Festival. Using local actors in combination with professional (both union and non-union) talent from the region has become a calling card for the young company. For more information about Willamette Repertory Theatre please visit our website at www.willrep.org, or call the office at 343-9903 and speak with Kirk Boyd or General Manager Michael Peterson. |
Review: Something to take with you April 10, 2005 By Dorothy Velasco For Register-Guard “You Can't Take It with You” is just what the doctor ordered. No matter what ails you, spiritually or physically, you'll come away from Willamette Repertory Theatre's production at the Soreng Theatre with something you can take with you, a lighter heart. According to director Kirk Boyd, this is the play local audiences have requested more than any other, and it's easy to see why. Moss Hart and George S. Kaufman's enduring comedy, first performed in 1936, is as hilarious today as it ever was, and just as touching. The action centers on the free-spirited Sycamore family and their live-in friends who inhabit a commune-like home in Depression-era New York. Grandpa Vanderhof, portrayed by the wonderfully wry Philip Davidson, left his job 35 years earlier and has done what makes him happy ever since. Davidson, who has played many leading roles at the Oregon Shakespearean Festival, gives Grandpa a natural warmth and an understated authority. Grandpa is such an influential role model that most of his family has followed in his hedonistic footsteps, and outsiders fall under his spell as well. His daughter Penelope Sycamore, the matriarch of the family, painted portraits until a typewriter was accidentally delivered to her, inspiring her to write plays. Her husband Paul makes fireworks in the basement with Mr. De Pinna, who came to deliver coal six years earlier and never left. The Sycamores have two daughters, Essie, a 29-year-old aspiring ballerina, and Alice, the only family member with a job. Essie's husband, Ed Carmichael, loves his printing press and accompanies her dancing on his xylophone. Clearly he was born to join this family. Grandpa and his brood are so endearing partly because we know their passions will never result in financial or artistic success. Nobody is very good at what they do. Essie is too old, tall and untalented to become a dancer. Penelope's plays about such topics as an exotic dancer who joins a monastery for six years won't entice producers. Ed doesn't print anything of commercial value. Paul and Mr. De Pinna's fireworks sell for only pennies if at all. The hangers-on are even less successful. Boris, the Russian ballet master, Gay, a drunken actress, and the Grand Duchess Olga, a cousin of the czar who now works as a waitress at Child's, don't have much hope, but they carry on and manage to have fun. What more can any of us do? Alice, who loves her family but also functions in the real world, is in love with Tony Kirby, the sweet-natured son of her boss. Tony wants to marry Alice, but she fears the straight-laced Kirbys will never accept her family of happy slackers. I've seen many productions of this Pulitzer Prize-winning play, and Boyd's ranks among the best. The entire cast is delightful, but Michelle Morain's portrayal of Penelope is pure joy. I'd be happy if she'd return to perform with Willamette Rep every year. Morain first acted with the company as Josie Hogan in "Moon for the Misbegotten." Josie was a big, awkward farm woman with great compassion. Here, as Penelope, she is middle-aged but still girlish, and full of artistic enthusiasm. Completely guileless, she tries to make everyone happy, without sacrificing her own interests. “You Can't Take It with You” features 17 fine actors and some pretty impressive fireworks. Heather Persinger is a real treat as Essie. Her dying swan is a comic gem. Mark Lewis is larger than life as the volatile Boris. Kimberly Bates and Adam Goldthwaite are charming as Alice and Tony. Ariel Ginsburg as Rheba the maid and Steven Wehmeier as her lazy boyfriend Donald provide lively fun. Ken Hof as Paul, Frank Muhr as Mr. De Pinna and Dan Pegoda as Ed are all amusing. Janet Steiger Carr gets lots of laughs as Gay Wellington, as does Kim Donahey as Olga. Scott Barkhurst is especially effective as Mr. Kirby, and Susan Mason is appropriately snooty as Mrs. Kirby. Bill Reid and Earl Ruttencutter play smaller roles. This is the last production in Willamette Rep's fifth season, and it shouldn't be missed. |
Stunning Storytelling The Drawer Boy is theater at its finest. February 3, 2005 By Sharleen Nelson For Eugene Weekly  Sometimes it's the simplest stories that engage us the most. Michael Healey's The Drawer Boy is one such story. More than
an amusing representation of city boy meets Green Acres, the Willamette Repertory Theatre's production is a tale about
love, loss and an intimate friendship rarely seen between men.The play is based on a 1972 project conducted by a group of Toronto-based actors. They lived and labored in an Ontario farming community and collected stories from the people they encountered. According to Director Kirk Boyd, Drawer Boy was the most-produced play in the country the last few years. It's 1972 and elderly friends Morgan and Angus have shared a secluded life of ritual and routine on their farm for many years. Morgan does most of the demanding work while tending to the needs of Angus, who suffers from short- and long-term memory loss - the result of a head injury sustained during WWII. All that changes when Miles, an enthusiastic young actor and playwright from the city arrives. Researching farm life for his theater group, Miles hopes to collect fodder for use on the stage. What he doesn't anticipate is becoming a part of the drama he seeks. The action takes place in a simple, folksy kitchen with a door leading out to a front porch. Farm sounds including cows mooing, chickens clucking and Miles' vocal struggles with the tractor and hay baler emanate from behind the stage. A breathtakingly realistic backdrop of cloud-filled sky reflects subtle changes in light and depth as dawn turns to dusk on the farm. At first, Morgan isn't thrilled about the interruption in their lives. But he makes the best of it with a touch of wry humor, toying with the young thespian via heartbreaking stories about the plight of farm cows and through a litany of sham chores such as washing individual pieces of gravel and shoveling manure in the barn with a table fork. Boyd has assembled a truly inspired cast for this quality production. Wesley Bishop puts in a powerful performance as Morgan, encapsulating the essence of the rural farmer. A proud and protective man, he hides his emotions behind a tough veneer, while exposing his sensitivity through storytelling. Achilles Massahos is adorably childlike as the impaired Angus. Because Angus only remembers now, Massahos uses his wonderful range of facial expressions and body movements to express Angus' rollercoaster of emotions. His ability to make us laugh at one moment then tug at our heartstrings the next is stunning. Cameron Carlisle holds his own as Miles, nailing the earnest, yet carefree tie-dyed spirit of his character. Through his interactions with Morgan and Angus, he reveals a sense of both the actor acting and the real person within. As he adjusts to farm life, Miles discovers that interactions with Angus are difficult at best. Because Angus cannot remember from one day to the next, Miles must reintroduce himself each day. He quickly discovers that questioning Angus about his lost memories pushes him completely over the edge. One evening, Miles overhears the two men talking on the porch. "Tell it," says Angus. Recited like a favorite poem from one who has delivered it many times over, Morgan tells Angus a story about two friends, the farmer and the drawer boy (pronounced draw-er, because the boy likes to draw); and two girls, one tall and the other taller. He tells of counting stars and talking all night; two houses together, but separate; a double wedding; and a tragic loss. Against Morgan's wishes, Miles turns his story into a play. Seeing himself and Morgan portrayed onstage lights a spark in Angus. As he begins to regain his memory, the layers of hidden deception, secrets and truth slowly unfold. Despite the play's confusing name, Willamette Rep's production of The Drawer Boy is tender, moving, and funny - richly woven storytelling at its finest. This truly exceptional production runs until Feb. 13 at the Hult Center's Soreng Theater. |
Theater Review: 'Drawer Boy' refreshingly good from start to finish January 30, 2005 By Dorothy Velasco For The Register-Guard “The Drawer Boy,” meaning the boy who draws, is a play that draws you in. This is theater for those who love the allure of good storytelling seasoned with poetic language. The first full-length play by Canadian playwright Michael Healey, “The Drawer Boy” premiered in 1999. It received top theater awards in Canada and in 2003 it was the most-produced play in the United States. Even so, you may never have heard of the play. That should change as word gets out about Willamette Repertory Theatre's thoroughly satisfying production in the Soreng Theatre. The response of the opening night audience was a joyful standing ovation. The play, lovingly directed by Kirk Boyd, elicits belly laughs, perhaps a few tears, and constant pleasure from start to finish. With only three actors and a single set, it's inexpensive to produce, but that alone doesn't account for its numerous productions. What makes it a success is its fresh, unconventional humor, endearing characters, engrossing plot twists, and above all, its theme of unfailing loyalty and lifelong friendship. “The Drawer Boy,” set on a farm in central Ontario in 1972, is a humane tale that reaffirms goodness in human beings. In a time of war and brutality in many parts of the world, we're happy to spend a couple of hours in the company of two middle-aged farmers and a silly, but sincere, young actor. Morgan and Angus, two rough farmers who share an old farmhouse and a livelihood, have been friends since childhood. Morgan, gruff and capable, always knew farming was his destiny. As a boy, Angus had been talented at making architectural drawings and brilliant in math. He planned to become an architect. Then World War II swept them off to the front. While stationed in England, they met two tall English girls and fell in love. But one evening, Angus sustained a severe head injury during a bombing raid, and life was never the same. Now, almost 30 years later, Angus still has no short-term memory. He can remember a few events from childhood, and he remembers the story Morgan tells him repeatedly about his injury and the English girls, but he can't remember if he put the bread in the oven. Into this situation comes Miles, a young actor from Toronto. He belongs to a theater collective that plans to create an original work based on the lives of farmers. Miles expects to live with Morgan and Angus for a couple of weeks, observing their work and listening to their stories. He's surprised but game when Morgan insists that he work, too. Miles is as soft as a jelly donut. He's never done work like this. He scrapes his arms and legs raw when stacking bales of hay all day while wearing shorts and flip-flops. He believes Morgan when he tells him the cows strive to produce more milk because they know the one who produces the least each week is slaughtered for food. You may think they look relaxed, he tells Miles, but they're really suffering from acute anxiety. Life on a farm may seem boring to an outsider, but for humans and animals, it's an emotional roller coaster. Achilles Massahos, a professional actor we are fortunate to have living in Eugene, is irresistibly dear and always funny as Angus. He's making the best of life, thanks in large part to care and support from Morgan, who feels responsible for his injury. Wesley Bishop, a veteran of the Oregon Shakespeare Festival, is equally compelling as Morgan. He can stand perfectly still and command all attention. Lean and dour, he looks every inch the hard-working farmer. Morgan's humor, sly and with never a hint of a wink, is as surprising as a cold bucket of water. Cameron Carlisle, who transforms himself in every role, is a delight as the puppyish Miles, so eager to suck up real life and turn it into art. Miles inadvertently becomes the catalyst that forces Morgan and Angus to change their story for the truth. Composer Doug Clark provides haunting incidental music and the set by Dan Koetting captures the bare-bones existence of farm life. Dorothy Velasco is a Springfield playwright who reviews theater for The Register-Guard. |
Theater Review: 'Always ... Patsy' offers down-home warmth November 30, 2004 By Dorothy Velasco For The Register-Guard "Always ... Patsy Cline," by Ted Swindley, is like two shows for the price of one. It's an amusing play with funny dialogue, lively characters and tender moments. But above all it's a complete concert of favorite Patsy Cline songs, beautifully sung by Shandra Sinnamon and perfectly accompanied by a five-piece band, the Bodacious Bobcats. Concert probably isn't the right word for this kind of down-home jamboree. Instead, imagine a Grand Ole Opry show with Cline and her band as the only performers. In two hours she sings 27 hits, and every song is a well-loved gem, like comfort food for the ears. Now playing in the Soreng Theatre in a Willamette Repertory Theatre production, "Always ... Patsy Cline" makes dandy holiday entertainment. Based on a true story, it tells of the chance meeting of a fan named Louise and the rising country-western star at a rustic performance hall in Houston. Louise is a divorced mother struggling to get by. One of her great pleasures is to call up the local disc jockey and badger him to play Patsy's records on the radio as often as possible. When Patsy comes to perform in Houston, Louise introduces herself. They form an instant bond and develop a deep, sisterly friendship that lasts until Patsy's untimely death. Sinnamon, a professional performer and Grammy-winning songwriter, has studied Cline's style, and although she doesn't always sound exactly like her, she sounds darn good. She gives us a star who has wonderful rapport with the band members and her audience, easily making warm connections with throwaway lines throughout her songs. The talented musicians, smoothly blended into a polished band, are Scotty Perey on piano, Chip Cohen on fiddle, Larry Blom on pedal steel and bass, Sylvain DuPlant on bass and guitar, and Ishi Mederas on drums. Emily Gilbert is hilarious as Louise, and the audience loves her. She has a warm presence and she pulls out all the stops. However, she's a bit over the top for my taste. The big hair, a ratted blonde hairdo, is so huge that I sometimes caught myself watching the hair instead of her expressive face. Louise's rowdiness may be a choice of the director, Norm Johnson Jr., as a means of drawing the audience into the action. Gilbert often bounds into the audience and even dances in the aisles with anyone who's willing. Warming up the somewhat austere Soreng Theatre is always a concern, and the set design by Troy Hemmerling does a good job by extending festive lights out into the auditorium. The barn-like set and the raked stage bring the action far downstage, close to the audience. Perri Allison's costume designs for Cline and the band are happy renditions of 1950s country-western performers' duds, as well as a collection of gorgeous period gowns. Louise, on the other hand, is dressed in a 1980s Western outfit (and that hairdo). She's telling the story from a later date, so in a way the choice makes sense. But since she appears throughout the play with Cline in the late 1950s and early '60s, it's jarring to see her looking like a time traveler. Local audiences have enjoyed earlier productions of "Always ... Patsy Cline" at Actors Cabaret, but if you love Cline's enormously popular songs - including "Crazy," "Sweet Dreams," "I Fall to Pieces" and many others - you'll be well pleased to see this fine production as well. Dorothy Velasco of Springfield reviews theater for The Register-Guard. |
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