What to Check Out

There's a tour de force of acting going on right now at Aurora Theatre with Joe Penhall's Blue/Orange. Aurora has always been an "actors' theatre" in the true sense of the term, and Blue/Orange is a storm of theatrical timing, power shifts and emotion that keeps actors exploring the possibilities throughout the run. It's a play that you, an audience member, want to see at the beginning, middle and end of the run just to see where the actors' have gone, and what nuances they play and discard along the way. Paul Whitworth and T. Edward Webster play dueling psychiatrists, arguing over the diagnosis of Christopher, played by Paul Oliver. Christopher being black and the psychiatrists being white, Blue/Orange is more about the politics of mental illness rather than mental illness itself, artistic director (and director) Tom Ross points out in the program notes.
Blue/Orange is the sort of play that infuriates me the way Oleanna does, and therefore I tend to block it out--draw your own conclusions about this as you will. But the acting overshadowed this, and so much the better that the Aurora stage is intimate, and even more interesting, Ross staged this in the round, (obviously) requiring the actors to play all sides and shift as the power among them shifts. I was thrilled to watch Paul Whitworth, who blew me out of the water with his performance in Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? last summer at his home at Shakespeare Santa Cruz, up close, though he tended to exhibit the same mannerisms, which I'm sure will evolve. T. Edward Webster seemed a bit more studied though accurate, but I can see interpretation creeping in. And, to save the best for last, Paul Oliver shines in one of the best performances I've seen in quite a while. Lucky for me to have discovered this actor!

Practically right next door, Berkeley Rep opened The People's Temple on Wednesday, which was the place to be, that is to say, I tried to avoid the Spark video crew. The play received a triumpant review in the Chron, and it really has a masterful approach and is wonderfully directed. Jonestown, as one of my friends says, was before my time (oh come on, I'm not that young), and so I have no personal connection to the events. I may have been the only one in the theatre who doesn't recollect the media images and the full story, which is sometimes a nice way to test the emotional impact (not to mention the plot) of the play.
Surprisingly (in a good way), Jones doesn't appear onstage as often as you would think, and the play focused more on the core ideals of the people than Jones's brainwashing. That is, you understand and identify with the values (at first) of the people, the sense of community and deep love and compassion they felt for each other. Of course, all too soon, and all too easily, Jones breaks that down.
I have to amend an earlier post that indicated Jim Carpenter was playing Jones; there was a casting change, apparently, along the way.
Though the script tends to abandon the stories of some of the survivors at critical moments, leaving you wondering what happened next, and some of the false endings could stand to be finessed, The People's Temple is one of those little gems that is all the more beautiful if there's an emotional link for you, and if not, you still appreciate its beauty.

To SFist: Theatre?

At the risk of finger-wagging from fact checkers who are much better at editing my work than I am (not being good at editing one's own work is a dangerous but common condition), I have been missing the theatre coverage SFist was once fairly decent about providing. I've been pouring through the posts from the past several weeks, and nada. Is it because I didn't give them publicity? (wink?) Am I missing something?

Worth the Drive

I should have posted this about a week ago, but I had an insane work week.
A couple of Fridays ago, I headed up to Santa Rosa to check out Actors Theatre/Santa Rosa Players' new space, the 6th Street Playhouse--and to check out its production of Melissa Gibson's [sic].
Last time I saw Actors Theatre, it was in the Luther Burbank Center and it was audaciously running Angels in America in rep. I spent the weekend there, and it was terrific.
The companies, now under the banner 6th Street Playhouse (SR Players does musicals, AT does plays) have moved into an old canning building in Santa Rosa's Railroad Square. The 180-seat new theatre rocks, has beautiful acoustics, lots of parking and is in a great location.
Executive director Argo Thompson sent us over to dinner at Syrah Bistro, where the chef sent out a plate of olives to start us off. I'm not a foodie, so I won't even try to go into glorious detail, but highlights inlcuded the Bonny Doon wine--let's hear it for screw-tops--and a nicely balanced entree and an intimate but not too loud ambiance. Railroad Square also has a great coffee shop (with very rich coffee and great attention to tea) that always seems to be packed, and has an ice cream parlor right next door.
And, Argo said, Syrah ended up expanding their hours becuase the theatre's patrons kept asking if they were open. Theatre does bring business to a neighborhood.
[sic] was good--I won't go into detail because it closes today, but up next for AT is Stones in His Pockets, the Marie Jones comedy.
Trust me, 6th Street Playhouse and Railroad Square is worth the drive. Catch a weekend matinee.
P.S. Actors, this company is also worth the drive. Great shows. Audition!

Ticker Favs

My two favorite news bits of the week:
"Investigators find unsafe conditions at San Quentin."
Airlines have banned cigarette lighters from carry-on luggage. Why? Because Richard Reid tried to light his shoe bomb with matches, but was unsuccessful. "Experts [emphasis mine] say that had he had a lighter, he might have been successful."

U2 Vertigo Tour, San Jose

Because one of my friends said on Friday afternoon, “Tell me about U2.”
We had reserved seats in the lower section for show 1 in San Jose, and overall, it was awesome. But then, I’m a crazy fan.
The place was packed, totally sold out. The lights went down and everyone started screaming, and everyone in the seats also stood up. Over the speakers “Everyone, everyone, everyone.” Then the lights came up on the back screens and confetti fell as the band launched into “City of Blinding Lights,” and the place went nuts. My focus was on the center stage, so I didn’t realize that Bono had walked out to the front of the elliptical catwalk in the dark and was there as the lights came up. An awesome set, by the way, where fans were in the elliptical and also around the edge. Then they went straight into “Vertigo,” and the edges of the ellipse as well as the center stage lit up with plasma lights, running around like an electron in red and blue. (If you’re a member of U2.com, we can watch video of how they designed the set.) And then it was “Elevation,” done a little more low key. A totally awesome start.
What was strange is how the crowd didn’t seem to be with Bono all the way through. In fact, even after such an insane start, they seemed to drop off a bit. I wonder if it had to do with the high ticket prices. Like, the guy next to me was yakking with his friend before the show started. “How did you get tickets?” the friend asked. “My financial advisor,” the guy next to me said. We were in Silicon Valley after all.
Some of the energy sapped out when Bono (being “insufferable,” he said) started his political lectures. He talked about the pope, telling the story of when he gave the pope his sunglasses and the pope gave him some rosary beads, which he pulled out to show the crowd and later kissed. He said that the pope had starred at him so intently that “being half Catholic I thought I did something wrong.” And he did clarify that he didn’t agree with everything the pope stood for.
In a later part of the “political section” of “Sunday Bloody Sunday” (which ended with Bono banging on some drums at the top of the ellipse) and “Bullet the Blue Sky,” Bono put on a white headband with the Star of David and the crescent moon and star. The band was projected onto screens through 4 cameras, and the image of Bono and especially the symbols wasn’t that great—in fact, I think there was a peace sign too but I wasn’t sure. Then “Bullet” started, with animation of fighter jets flying across the back screens (actually the screens were like curtains of bulbs). Of course, it was anti-Iraq war, with Bono putting the band over his eyes and walking forward until his sit his mic stand, with “The Hands That Built America” and “Johnny Come Marching Home,” coming in somewhere around that area (it is a bit of a blur to me). Then he said “For the brave men and women in the U.S. army.”
He also referenced the tours where he would call the White House at every show. “They wouldn’t take my calls then, but they’re used to me now….everyone take out your cell phones and hold them up,” and the place was covered with the lights of hundreds of cell phone screens like lighters. Call the politicians, he said. Then they played “One,” and on the screens there were instructions to text message a number to pledge support of his campaign to fight poverty. After “One,” they took a break and came back with “All Because of You,” and the screen said, “Thank you for text messaging” and then listed a bunch of names, presumably of the people in the crowd.
So, overall I was disappointed with the crowd, who either weren’t that much into what all of U2 is, or were newer fans, or were there because they spent lots of money to be able to say they were there. At one point Bono seemed to say, “Are you with me?” (Though someone posted to a U2 site that he said “Ah, now you’re with me.” Either way, you get it.) They didn’t seem to get the irony, for example, of the showing of the Bill of Rights after the “men and women” dedication. The Middle East, Iraq, Martin Luther King, the U.N., Bono was calling for human rights around the world.
But of course, Bono is the show man and damn sexy at that. At points he crawled around the catwalk, teasing the crowd, jumping around and posing. As The Edge took a turn around the walk, Bono, from center stage, threw some water toward him, though most of it landed on the people in the middle of the ellipse. He took a girl’s cowboy hat and pretended to ride a horse for a couple of steps, and for “Mysterious Ways,” a woman was hoisted onto the walk and danced with him all the way around. “What’s your name” he asked. She said “Ali,” and he said, “Didn’t I meet you earlier?” I thought that was a bit of a joke because his wife’s name is Ali, but some sites said she was the same girl from a tour in the area a few years back, and another site said she was the same girl from an earlier show on the tour. After “Zoo Station,” he heard “He’s back!” and a loud clearing of the throat, and there was “The Fly.”
There was only one encore, which started with “All Because of You,” then “Yahweh,” and ended with “40,” with the crowd singing “How long must we sing this song?” as Bono held a spotlight, shining it around the top sections. Then he placed it at his feet, shining straight up. Then he left the stage. The Edge and Adam soon followed, leaving Larry to bang on the drums before he left while the fans were still singing.

Missing Rinde

What totally sucks is that I'm missing, at this very moment, Slow Fire, the Rinde Eckert/Paul Dresher Ensemble collaboration that's on its 20th anniversary tour and that's playing tonight at Stanford Lively Arts. Didn't manage to get tickets.
But that explains why he happened to be at the opening of For Better or Worse at Berkeley Rep, sitting with Tony Taccone. I was hoping maybe he was working on a new piece for the Rep.

Sting!

Trev’s longtime best friend (since high school), best man at our wedding and techie extraordinaire at SJSU Event Center, Todd snagged us floor tickets (not to mention the set list) to Sting’s Broken Music tour, which kicked off last night at said Event Center. (Todd also took us from our seats down to the floor at U2’s Pop tour a few years back—Todd’s a great guy.)
Psyched as we were, we still wondered if we would be seeing the Sting of the ’80s or the holistic Sting of the mid-’90s. So, before you banish Sting to the eighth circle of easy-listening hell, listen to me: Sting totally rocked!
This concert was pure stripped-down good ol’ jammin’. No video, just the usual lights and a few Celtic-patterned Gobos, which were projected on the walls of the house. At Sting’s mic was a TelePrompTer, a table (an altar of remedies) with a large tea mug, a cup full of what looked like lime Emergen C but was probably Gatorade and some throat spray. The band launched into “Message in a Bottle.” (See the full set list.) “We haven’t played at a university is 25 years,” he said. “I’m kinda nervous. Maybe because I used to be a teacher.” Yeah, he used to be a teacher like I used to be a fingerpainter. But hey. Later he picked up a stuffed animal that someone threw on the stage. At first glance it looked like a bee. “These things follow me around. But this is a bear dressed as a bee.” Indeed it was. He set the bear down next to the Gatorade. Though we were only about 15 feet from the stage, the photos on our cell phones still came out shitty. Backlighting.
Anyway, you see from the set list he played a lot of older songs. “Synchronicity II” was especially kinetic, and he ended with “Roxanne,” and everyone was more than happy to join in: Rooooooxane! It probably saved his voice. Dominic Miller, in a tight black tee-shirt with black jeans, walked around the stage, standing at the edge and flirting with the first row of screamers. Sting wore a black blazer with pin stripes and a black tank top, with a shard of quartz around his neck. The other two guys in the band, “we just met last month,” Sting laughs.
After “Roxanne” was the first encore, with “Next to You” transitioning dramatically into “Every Breath You Take.” In all, they played about 90 minutes.
And, oh, Phantom Planet opened. How could I forget? They nearly wouldn’t leave the stage until we remembered who they were. Most memorable was their tapping on a “Casio keyboard we bought at Radio Shack. Hey, we’re poor, we’re just the opening band. Let’s hear it for Radio Shack!”
Woo-hoo.