OuterStage

ACT-OUT Acting School in association with Genesis Repertory presents a master class final project:

TWELVE ANGRY MEN
Adapted by Sherman Sergel. Based on the Emmy award-winning television movie by Reginald Rose. Produced by special arrangement with The Dramatic Publishing Company of Woodstock, Ill. 
An ACT-OUT Master Class

Review by Bob Greene

The golden age of television brought us classic dramas from anthology programs like Playhouse 90 and Studio One. The latter featured works by teleplay writer Reginald Rose. While he was somewhat prolific in this time period, today he is known almost solely for one great work: Twelve Angry Men. The jury room drama that appeared on television, film, and stage. The most recent live outing came thanks to John Stillwaggon’s Act-Out acting program. Prof. Stillwaggon used this ensemble drama as sort of a final exam for his class of adult artists, some continuing their theatrical education, other embarking on one. It was impressive to not be able to – at a glance – see who were the veteran performers and who were the novices.

The play’s plot is simple. A young man of some ethnic persuasion (most productions keep this fact ambiguous, not here as this production was modernized, the ethnicity was topical as well) is on trial for the murder of his father. While we are handed facts that are meant to lead us – and the jury – to believe that this boy is guilty beyond a doubt, one lone juror, wants to re-examine the facts. What results is an hour of taught, engrossing drama that shows none of its 57 years of age.

Twelve Angry Men worked well for Stillwaggon’s class as it is meant to be a group of a dozen strangers, so a class of varied types fit right in: Raja RG was solid as the foreman and held the narrative well in a no-nonsense manner, while Joyce Adams provided levity by being consistently confused. Ms. Adams light interpretation made her truly likable. William Doyle was excellent as the famed belligerent juror with an ax to grind. Here we found a totally fleshed out character straight down to his spot-on costume choice. We believed his ardor came from ignorance so we never truly hate him. Olga Privman gave us a professional woman character that was most refreshing. It put the play squarely in the present and her powerful presence moved the action well. The same can be said for Andy Guzman’s ethnic juror who will not forget where he came from. Guzman and fellow juror Andrew Marcillo contributed a genuine toughness that could easily have been lost among some of the more outspoken characters but both men delivered strong sensitive portrayals that enhanced the action. Robert Aloi and Mohammad Saad were true standouts as the blow hard, ignorant juror and the new American, proud to be as such. Aloi’s clumsy swagger and over-the-top delivery was the stuff of great drama and when it was combined with Saad’s focused piercing delivery, peppered with an accent that made lines about being American that much more poignant, the play was at its peak. Kristen O’Blessin handed us a smarmy advertising middle exec, whose journey from the “obvious” to the real was both humorous and touching. Robert Saunders and John Harrison played two ends of the same coin – one, a sad man hoping to make a difference and the other, a sad man too blind to see the detriment he was making. Saunders’ slow gait and warm voice made us care, while Harrison’s monologue in the latter half of the play about “those people” brought gasps from the audience. The choice to show us who was on trial by mentioning the unmentionable event of 2001 could have destroyed the play but in the hands of Mr. Harrison, it was a wake-up call.

Finally, Christopher Sirota’s performance as the famed “Juror #8,” the lone juror with the almost impossible task of swaying his colleagues, was inspired. Playing him as a meek unimportant, unnoticed little man was very clever. Never loosing this quality, we truly saw – not only his battle with his fellow sequestered colleagues – but the inner battle with himself to stand up for what’s right. Sirota walked the fine line between performability and reality by giving us great command of the stage in a subtle portrayal. Thinking of this piece by today’s standards, he struck a strong chord for the “everyman” everywhere.

Giving his students a bigger obstacle, Stillwaggon staged the piece in the round. He is to be commended for offering his students a bevy of challenges not normally found in an acting program. One might say he is a juror #8 by having abundant faith in his students.

While it must be said that there were lost moments due to volume or diction, sight line issues with the in-the-round setting juxtaposed with audience placement, and questions regarding choice of costume and color, the overall product was a great night in the theater.

One might also ask: did his get 12 students and then pick the play or was he lucky enough to get 12 students for the play?

Act-Out should be praised for providing such a service in a neighborhood setting and Genesis Repertory should receive its own praise for sponsoring such an event.

Bob Greene is a former playwright and retired history professor. Today, he writes for several online services.

BRIDGEBOY
Through March 6

www.theactivetheater.com

Review by Robert Liebowitz

Solid cast–for the most part, a refreshing yes. Stage-worthy play–again, for the most part, yes, provided by a playwright of strong talent. Technical design and execution–not the best, but capable, practical, and well suited for the production at hand. Dramaturg–errr, who? Dramaturg. Hmmmm…what’s that? Well, a general description would be a person skilled in knowing what will and what will not work on stage.The lack of Dramaturgy makes this play well-meaning but mixed.

“The play is the thing, etc…”, and here this tenet of the theater applies. Mr. Keuter has many profound, insightful things he wishes to say, and he knows basically how he wants to say it. The problem is that, at last count, there were three plays performing within one, and one suspects a fourth play broke out after the lights went black and the audience was filing out of the theater. There was simply too many competing, distracting ideas constantly butting into each other, which prevented the play from being a solitary, singular vision of work.

Fortunately for the playwright, the play he set out to write–some silly, inane contrivance concerning two very silly and unlikable 20-somethings–passed and faded from view after about 20 minutes. Thankfully, Mr. Keuter had much more up his sleeve.

The play takes place in some seedy bar near a bridge–(Red Hook, Brooklyn, perhaps? An obvious choice, something the directors left purposely vague, for reasons known only to them). Within minutes we are presented with what appears to be The Cliched Parade of Idiots–Drunk Bartender, Convict Brother, Convict Brother’s left-behind wife, The Girl Left Behind, and The Love Story, with The Gym Rat and The BagLady Greek Chorus thrown into the mix. Yet the play never delved into this tired territory, or into that place called I’ve Seen This Play Before. Well done.

Suddenly and without warning, the children thankfully went to ‘theater sleepland’, and the adults took over. Their stories–filled with harbored passions, monstrous jealousies, cowardice, and of course one Big Lie after another–was compelling listening and viewing throughout the 1 hour 40 minute running time. Marinated over this were wonderful insights into the human condition, with much to laugh at and some to ponder. All of it in natural, everyday conversational tones, with that heightened theatrical reality. A tip of the hat to you, Mr. Keuter.

The cast lived up to their end of the bargain, led by the superb Catherine Curtin as the wistful barfly Candy, and her comrade-in-arm Mary Jo Mecca as the long suffering neglected Lynn. The men were generally as strong, led by James Judy as the loutish but broken hearted and love sick Sal.

To The Active Theater–you have the writing, the acting, the technical…next time, though, one play, one story, told through the eyes of one director. These simple precepts, these basic blocks of theater building, would’ve easily have made ‘Bridgeboy’ a memorable production instead of a capable competent one.

Review by Robert Liebowitz

Opera is no doubt a powerful, highly expressive art, but most productions of operas usually disappoint. Why? Simple–every other production element that goes into making a theatrical event is simply ignored; all that is concentrated on is the actual singing. Acting, directing, set design, costumes, make up, lights…these get treated like step-children and, unbeknown to the director, their production suffers as a result. Add the Met’s recent production of Tosca to this list of passable but mediocre endeavors.

Happily, however,  this notion has made a U Turn of sorts, at least for the short while. The Bronx Opera’s production of Donizetti’s Don Pasquale has not only exceeded expectations, but has done the near impossible–taken a minor, insignificant work, and converted it into a captivating, entertaining, successful evening. Sometimes taking a small step, sometimes a great leap, this version surprises at every turn.

Donzinetti composed this near the end of his life, taking all of two weeks; sometimes it feels as if he were double parked while writing. The music is unmemorable and as dull as dishwater; the plot is a tiresome, grade-school cliched collage of trickery that dozens of composers have done better. The hidden gem, however, is the libretto, sung in English, and still sparkling 160 years after its inception. A tip of the hat goes to Director Royston Coppenger for simply having the good insight or fortune of casting correctly, which in turn brought this gem into a vital, glistening light.

It is highlighted by the brilliant, wise-cracking, scheming-but-with-a-good-heart Ms. Nicole Lee Aiossa. She portrays the sexy, wistful Norina with uncommon wit and charm, and is worth the price of admission by herself. She is helped by the able Jack Anderson White, who portrays the title role quite effectively.

The company is also to be commended for its non-traditional casting of Robert Arthur Hughes in the role of Ernesto, Don Pasquale’s nephew. Mr. Hughes need a bit more seasoning as far as his acting goes, yet his voice– in his arias but in particular in his duets with his love interest Norina–provides a haunting contrast, and made for several memorable stretches of true dramatic story telling.

As mentioned, some of the other elements of dramatic story telling fall by the wayside in a sea of neglect. If an actor is waiting for a cue for their entrance, they must not be seen in the wings actually waiting. If one receives a letter from a servant, it must be in an envelope; if it is not, it changes the plot of the play. If one is packing clothing in a pair of suitcases, it must appear that there is at least something in these cases besides air. If a significant part of the Act II plot hinges on an actual slap, from husband to wife, then an actual slap–fingers to cheek–must occur. When you are successful, the willing suspension of disbelief enjoyed by the audience will go a long way…but then is momentarily destroyed when these inexcusable missteps occur. The costumes are from the Edwardian England Era, which would be quite an accomplishment, since the opera takes place in Italy, and the Era was nearly 70 years away, safely ensconced in the following century. A program note of time and place is required.

No matter. The Bronx Opera on the beautiful Lehman Campus hosted an enjoyable night at the opera!

[The Bronx Opera presented the New York staged premiere of Weber & Mahler's Die Drei Pintos. As is tradition at the oldest opera company of its kind... the production was double cast. here is the first review by Lenny Stough. A second review of the other cast is forthcoming.]

Every season, The Bronx Opera dares to be different and present a rare or unique opera to start its year. This time, they present one that is rare AND unique. Die Drei Pintos, a piece created by Carl Weber, was incomplete at time of his passing. It was parceled from composer to composer until – 65 years later – it was brought to fruition by Gustav Mahler. What is finally there is an engaging, joyous work brought to appreciative audiences in The Bronx and Manhattan. The plot focuses on privileged student Don Gaston deciding to have a little fun with immensely MORE privileged squire Don Pinto by stealing his papers and attempting to woo his rich fiancée, Clarissa – call it 17^th century identity theft. He drags girlfriend Inez and long-suffering servant Ambrosio along for the ride. He thought it would be easy as Clarissa’s father, Don Pantaleone, never met the man to become his daughter’s husband, until he encounters a stumbling block in her secret boyfriend Don Gomez – who Pantaleone also never met. Get the picture?

Eapen Leubner as Gaston has a marvelous voice and excellent stage presence. He played the adventurous young man like a matinee idol complete with self-absorption and ultra-brite smile. He was a great foil to Kirk Dougherty’s Gomez who – macho in voice and presence – found all the fun in the role. Jeremy Moore achieves perfection as the droll servant Ambrosio with a top notch voice peppered with great falsetto and well-timed double-takes. Moore was a standout. Hannah Rosenbaum was lovely as Inez, playing the innkeepers daughter with a wink towards Carmen. Catherine Meyers and Patrice Eaton were simply superb as the befuddled bride-to-be and her savvy servant. Both were in great voice and both handled Ben Spierman’s witty topical translation to perfection. Kudos to Brace Negron, who played the pompous Pantaleone with great command, and special nods to Jonathan Harris as the snarky innkeeper and Michael Sarnoff-Wood as the sycophantic servant to the lord of the manor.

And then there was the titular Pinto. An orchestra unto himself, Michael O’Hearn’s interpretation of the foppish Pinto in question was truly uproarious. Clothed straight out of Moliere, O’Hearn’s deep tones and larger than life presence was a guilty pleasure from beginning to hilarious end. His delivery of such simple lines as “I shall marry … a woman” brought peals of laughter from the house. A touch of a snore was enough to make an hilarious drunken bit end perfectly. One can imagine O’Hearn as a Falstaff with ease.

Ben Spierman’s deft pairing of classical style staging with a witty and even slightly sarcastic translation make a visit to The Bronx Opera enjoyable for all tastes. Meganne George’s sunny day in Spain set was gorgeous and made for a fine canvas to Joshua Rose’s expert lighting plan. Meg Zeder’s costume design – like Spierman’s juxtaposition of past and present – gave a hint of time period and a helping of social status for each character with Gaston looking like a (non-Tramp) Charlie Chaplin, Ambrosio straight out of Dickens and Pinto – as a parable to him being behind the times – in full classical wig and cloak.

The orchestra sounded lovely under the baton of Michael Spierman (Eric Kramer – who penned the bright and breezy overture of the opera – conducted the opening). And a top-notch chorus was wrangled well by Michael Hagler.

If you were to Google current productions of Boheme or Traviata, you would undoubtedly get scores of hits – pardon the pun. Goggling rare works like this will supply a lot less – and that shows the real bravery and dedication of The Bronx Opera. They are on to the more intimate and recognizable Don Pasquale in May in its native Bronx and out to Long Island. With quality an expectation from this sincere company, I am sure it will be worth the trip to The Bronx – and beyond.