Sean San Jose

seansanjose1web.jpgOne of the signs of a good actor is that they can hold your attention even when the play they are performing in doesn’t. There are a few performers in the Bay Area that truly have this uncanny ability — so often dubbed “presence”. The San Francisco actor Sean San Jose walks among them.

San Jose, an actor of Filipino and Puerto Rican background, is most closely associated with the Intersection for the Arts organization. He’s not the most versatile actor I’ve ever seen on stage. He’s best at playing tortured heroes with hearts of gold but serious chips on their shoulders. The less even-keeled they are, the better.

In Thick Description‘s current production of Octavio Solis’ dream-like domestic drama set in Texas El Otro, San Jose is therefore truly in his element.

The play itself is problematic. The play takes off like an early Tarantino movie, with San Jose, playing a miscreant father and husband, Guadalupe, takes his teenage daughter, Romy, and his wife’s new husband, Ben, on a wild goose chase into the wilderness ostensibly to locate the whereabouts of a gift that he wants to give to his daughter. The quirky buddy-movie-cum-stage-drama plot engages us in the first half but spirals of kilter in the second. I, for one, got lost in the playwright’s esoteric dream sequences. I didn’t really understand what was going on in the second act or why the characters behaved the way they did.

Nevertheless, I couldn’t keep my eyes of San Jose, who behaved in such a compellingly unhinged fashion throughout, that I never knew what he would do next on stage. His performance is carefully controlled yet full of off-beat energy throughout. His lightning quick changes between playing the tender father, joking around with his daughter and tearing into her viciously are the sort of thing that makes you wake up in the middle of the night wondering where your childhood has gone. He makes Solis’ anti-hero full-blooded and likable, as much of as bastard as the character is.

The Bay Area is lucky to have San Jose. And I’m only waxing lyrical this morning about his acting abilities — he is also a formidable arts activist, producer and all-round mensch.

Willow, Willow

willow.jpegNearly every day brings news of another arts organization in financial straits. The latest casualty on the Bay Area performance scene is the Willows Theatre Company. The Concord and Martinez-based company, which has been producing well-trodden, though lively productions in the Bay Area for more than 30 years, has announced that it is facing a financial crisis that may force it to shut down its main-stage facility in Concord and a cabaret in Martinez unless the theater can raise $350,000 by November 1.

It’s an old story. And a troubling one. The theatre has been struggling to achieve a balanced budget for more than a year, according to Charles Lewis, board president, and Richard Elliott, artistic director. “We’ve cut staff, sharply reduced expenses and stretched every scarce dollar, but clearly it is not enough. Any further cuts could put us out of business for good. Clearly, we need help,” the duo stated in a press release.

The company is currently presenting productions of Hair and Spelling Bee.

The news doesn’t leave me in a very positive frame of mind. Let’s hope we don’t have to weep for this willow. I feel like quoting a poem by David Harris:

Willow, willow
soft swinging low head
sadness brings night tears
to your breast.

Singing of a night wing
circles in the sky
down in the darkness
a life begins to die.

Willow, willow
no answer to give
sunlight brings bright
eyes exploring where you live.

Songs of happy voices
whisper to the breeze
but no one see the tragedy
that lies beneath the leaves.

Willow, willow
watching the world go by
evening breathes a stillness
near the close of the day.

Cries of distant shadows
and shriek of diving claws
hissing into silence
that will soon engulf them all.

The Rationale For Staging A Play

awake.jpegIs it enough to stage a play because it seems socially or politically expedient to do so? Or should the fact that a particular drama reflects the times we live in be just part of the rationale behind mounting a production? All too often, it seems to me, producers and directors make programming decisions based solely on this criteria with little consideration for other equally important factors such as whether the play really suits their company’s mission, mandate and/or aesthetic approach.

As a result, audiences are fed a lot of half-baked classics, put on simply because the playwright’s anti-war sentiments, commentary on race relations, representation of transgender politics.

At yesterday evening’s performance of Clifford Odets’ 1934
drama, Awake and Sing!, however, I was reminded that social and political prescience can make for a very effective night out at the theatre. But it has to be married to great acting, a powerful mise-en-scene and mounted with an eye to the mission and audience of the company in question in order to truly succeed.

Awake and Sing! is pretty clichéd and hackneyed at this point. It’s themes (the breakdown of the American Dream, the rise of anti-capitalist thinking, the dissolution of the family unit, the generation gap, sexual politics etc) and characters (the domineering mother, the milquetoast father, the smart-talking card shark, the upstanding youth, the grandfather from the shtetl etc) have been seen on
American stages many times before Odets came along and many, many times since. But Odets has a wonderful way of developing his characters to their full. When brought to life by Aurora Theatre‘s crack cast, they dance with humanity. We can’t help but feel drawn in to their lives as melodramatic as they seem. Couple the strong performances with Joy Carlin’s even-keeled and taut direction, and the play keeps us engrossed thoughout.

Awake and Sing! is also a great choice for Aurora. The play suits the theatre’s intimate, deep-cut apron performance space. It also tells a story to which many of the company’s audience members can relate. The cast of characters skews on the older side, as does the Aurora crowd at this point. Some of them probably remember growing up around the time that the play is set.

As a result, Odets’ play puts across its political and social messages with expediency. But we never feel like we’re being bashed over the head with morality. The reasons for staging the play are clear. But they never supersede the experience of engaging with it at the artistic level.

A Henry Higgins Moment

rex.jpegIt’s funny, and — frankly — depressing, how nothingy little words or expressions creep into everyday speech until they become as rampant as swine flu. We often don’t realize when we use the words “like” or “you know” 15 times in a sentence. We get lazy with the way we talk. Is this a relatively recent by-product of our lackadaisical culture or something that’s been going on for centuries? And if the latter, I wonder what the Renaissance equivalent for “you know” was? “prithee” perhaps? Or maybe “forsooth”??

A new word has been appearing in the everyday lexicon of quite a few people I know in the Bay Area. It’s becoming so prevalent in the culture out here that I thought I should take a moment to point it out. The word in question is: “Really?” It sounds innocuous enough but it’s got a boa constrictor hold on the way Californians speak these days. 

In the usage of “really” that I’m referring to, the word is always accompanied by a question mark. It’s used when people find someone’s behavior strange, can’t believe something happening or otherwise feel like questioning the world around them. Instead of articulating how strange / incredible something is by describing that something in more detail or their feelings about it, they use “Really?” as a sort of shorthand for incredulity. The word is usually accompanied by a look of perplexity such as a furrowed brow. The second syllable is usually intoned higher than the first.

Although used in more specific circumstances than such common speech ticks as “like” and “you know”, “Really?” is, at least to my ear, really, really, lazy. And it’s driving me bonkers.

A Strange Marketing Campaign

bartoli.jpegThe marketing of classical music artists and their projects has gone from staid to sexy to sensationalist over the last decade or so. But Italian mezzo-soprano Cecilia Bartoli may have taken things a little too far with the packaging of her soon-to-be-released album Sacrificium. Dedicated to exploring the work of the great Italian castrati of the 17th and 18th centuries, the album features Bartoli’s interpretations of music by the likes of Nicola Porpora, Antonio Caldara, Francesco Araia and Carl Heinrich Graun as well as bonus tracks by Riccardo Broschi, Handel and Geminiano Giacomelli.

Bartoli’s approach to the material is wildly exciting albeit a little to frenetic for my taste. Every virtuostic run goes off like machine-gun fire in my ear. But taken in small doses, it’s inspiring rather than exhausting music.

What’s puzzling, hilarious and in pure bad taste, though, is the way in which the project is being marketed in the hardback book that accompanies the CDs. The language is way over-the-top. The first page of the media copy which I received in the mail the other day is blazoned with these words in bold capitals: “THE SACRIFICE OF HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS OF BOYS IN THE NAME OF MUSIC.” Just to make the point even clearer, the opposite page features a giant picture of a pair of surgeon’s scissors.

Even more hilarious and off-putting are the images of the singer scattered throughout the volume. The head is recognizably Bartoli’s. But the vocalist’s face has been superimposed on the trunks of various posturing nude males, decked out in marble Grecian hero statue-style. In one particularly funny image, where an athletically-ripped Bartoli looks like she is jumping a hurdle in a running race with a determined look on her face, the dot over the first letter “i” in the slogan “Eviva il coltellino!” (“long live the knife!”) coyly covers the statue’s testicles.

This sort of thing cannot possibly be taken seriously. I do hope Bartoli and her team meant it as a joke.

The Ideal Folk Club?

FeaPhotoAug08.jpgLast night, the Freight & Salvage Coffeehouse — the longest-running, full-time venue for folk and traditional music west of the Mississippi River — opened the doors to its new 18,000 square foot venue on Addison Street in downtown Berkeley with a sparkling concert of Celtic string and vocal music helmed by Scottish fiddler Alasdair Fraser and Californian cellist Nathalie Haas.

I don’t want to dwell on the concert itself in this blog post. I’ve written about Fraser and Haas before. I consider these musicians to be among the most sublime practitioners of their art. Perhaps the best way to describe the effect of the music on the audience is to describe what I saw when I looked down the rows of seated spectators: everyone’s toes were tapping and ankles were swaying to the kinetic sound. What I’d like to discuss today is the venue itself.

The opening of a new space for arts is a massive achievement in these trouble financial times. It’s remarkable that the venue managed to launch at all, considering the state of the economy.

The new Freight is in some ways a wonderful space. It’s light and airy. The acoustic is rich — I could make out all the individual layers in the string players’ mix last night, from the careening top notes of the lead fiddle, to the percussive scrapings of the “rhythm” fiddle to the drones of the lower instruments. The room has a bright “ping” to it yet doesn’t swallow any of the vocalists’ words.

The stage is a generous size (1339 square feet) and the space as a whole feels intimate even though it seats double the capacity of the old Freight, which had room for 220 patrons.

Also, you can’t beat the location. The venue is located right in the middle of downtown Berkeley in close proximity to Berkeley Repertory Theatre, The Aurora Theatre, The Jazz School, the University campus and countless great restaurants and bars.

In other ways, however, the new Freight doesn’t appeal to me as a venue for folk music. It feels less like a place to hang out with friends and hear some of the world’s finest folk musicians than it does a medical school lecture theatre. The seats are organized in neat rows which makes the room feel sterile. There should be tables and chairs that can move around, at least towards the front of the auditorium near the stage.

The lighting is spartan and unforgiving and the honey colored wooden walls seem old-fashioned and slightly characterless, like so much 1960s interior design.

There’s quite a bit of room to dance, which is a good thing. But the atmosphere simply isn’t conducive to jumping up and jiggling about. When Fraser suggested that people get up and dance at the end of the performance last night, very few people actually did. I reeled around because I couldn’t help myself and was joined by about three or four other audience members. Everyone else more or less sat or stood still.

Finally, I’m not at impressed with the cafe offerings at all. The tea selection is impressive. But a venue of this size which doesn’t serve alcohol should at least offer a wider and higher quality selection of sweet treats and real hot chocolate rather than fake powdered cocoa.
Still, I’m excited about the opening of the new venue as a whole. Hopefully it will help to increase the local audience for folk music.

Postscript: September 2 — This just in from Lisa Manning, the marketing manager at The Freight & Salvage, in response to my blog post:

Chloe,

Interesting that you don’t like the wooden walls- that is one of the aspects of the building that has garnered the most positive comments from patrons. Its wood recycled from the original building here.

Did you come to the community open house on Saturday, August 29th? We had almost 50 workshops, jam sessions in the lobby, and performances in the listening room. I bring it up, because it was a much more interactive environment, in which many people were dancing, and a huge throng were jamming together. The interplay between musicians and audience was dynamic in a way I think you would have appreciated, given your comments about opening night.

The seating has been designed for flexible arrangement to accommodate a variety of performance situations. For a sold-out show, as you saw during the Fiddle Summit, the chairs are in rows without tables. This maximizes the number of patrons that can be seated. Alternatively, the first few rows of chairs can be removed completely, to clear out an ample dance floor in front, for performances which encourage dancing. For a more casual & smaller performance, we can intersperse chairs & tables.

Finally, the café offerings are certainly a work in progress and you should expect to see changes in our offerings over the coming months.

I’ll share your write-up with other members of our staff.

Regards,

Lisa

Public Faces Private Places

lousada.jpegActor Barry Rutter in his Satyr costume chatting with writer and director Tony Harrison during rehearsals for The Trackers of Oxyrhynchus at the Stadium at Delphi in 1988. Actor Tom Courtenay looking dreamily into the camera on location in author Alan Sillitoe’s The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner in 1962. Composer Benjamin Britten listening intently to a rehearsal for a concert in Blythburgh Church at the Aldeburgh Festival in 1961. Rocker Marianne Faithfull posing tiredly in a 1978 studio portrait. Painter David Hockney putting the finishing touches on a canvas while at art school in 1960. Actor Laurence Olivier giving his young daughter Tamsin a shoulder ride down the beach in Brighton in 1966. Chef Sally Clarke kneading bread dough in 1992.

I could go on and on and on.

The in-the-moment depth and candidness of photographer Sandra Lousada’s portraits arrests anyone who turns the pages of her new book, Public Faces Private Places: Portraits of Artists 1956-2008. Lousada grew up amidst a circle of actors, writers and artists. Through her grandfather, writer and politician A P Herbert, her mother, stage designer, Jocelyn Herbert, and Jocelyn’s partner George Devine, founder of the Royal Court, she had privileged access to the world of literature, the arts, theatre and film. Yet for all her connections, Lousada’s portraits give off an air of softness and, above all, respect. This is not the work of someone who feels smug about being in the “inner circle”. Neither does it come across as being star-struck.

London’s National Theatre is exhibiting portraits from the book between September 7 and October 17. The free exhibition brings together a selection of photographs which capture the insider’s view of figures including Laurence Olivier and Joan Plowright, Vanessa Redgrave and Julie Christie.