REVIEW: Chico MacMurtrie: Border Crossers

A gesture of peace — Chico MacMurtrie’s Border Crossers. Known for his amorphic robotic works, Chico MacMurtrie visits Ann Arbor to work together with a band of driven University of Michigan students hailing from every facet of the university — from the Stamps School of Art & Design, School of Engineering, Ross School of Business, just to name a few — to create more prototypes for his ongoing project, Border Crossers.

It was a windy Friday afternoon, with the occasional glimpse of warm sunlight peeking through the gloomy winter clouds of Ann Arbor, when I approached the UMMA. As I turned the corner, gritting my teeth and bearing the cold, I saw a mass of people gathered around the UMMA’s entrance. I automatically understood for what reason — the students working under Chico MacMurtrie had worked tirelessly on what Chico himself called an “impossible project” and produced their own Border Crosser. And the people gathered around it were watching its unveiling. And I, of course, joined them.

This tall structure was an elaborate contraption that stretched itself further and further into the sky, as if reaching out for something. Despite its deceptively strong appearance, the Border Crosser is actually very delicate, built from relatively thin metal parts and then wrapped by inflated parts. Had the sun hit the Border Crosser, it would be a little more obvious (you would be able to see the structure inside the inflated portions). It swayed in the wind, which seemed to worry the students who worked on this project for weeks, as it continued to bend and stretch delicately.

Evidently, after having talked to some of the participating students as well as hearing it from Chico MacMurtrie himself, this Border Crosser was built with the same intention that all Border Crossers have: to cross borders peacefully, as the name obviously suggests. Actually, though, I had originally thought the name Border Crosser sounded kind of aggressive, because there is so much intent and purpose in the act of crossing borders. When really, once you come into contact with an actual Border Crosser, you would immediately realize how delicate they are.

When asked about the Border Crossers’ fragility, Chico MacMurtrie answered that the Border Crossers are meant to showcase the delicacy of crossing borders. I thought it was very intriguing and very relevant. Chico MacMurtrie’s project, Border Crossers, is the start of a conversation in connecting the world and understanding the fragility of connecting with others, most notably countries that border our own.

Another question posed for MacMurtrie addressed the fact that fences with barbed wire and fences that are bent on maintaining those borders often exist, and that the Border Crosser would likely meet its end in contact with such fences. Chico MacMurtrie chuckled at this question and related it back to the fragility of making connections, as that is what the Border Crossers represent — the action of making a connection, or “crossing borders,” is ultimately a risky feat, and that sometimes there are borders that are harder to cross.

Sometimes there are fences that are built to keep others out, and in understanding the intention of the Border Crossers, watching how slowly and intricately they move to their destination, you understand how difficult and precious of an act it can be. Honestly, just putting my thoughts into words chokes me up a little bit. Maybe it’s the music I’m listening to, low beats and mysteriously sad and profound, maybe the concept behind the work relates to my life personally, maybe it’s the cruelty of reality and the world that we live in, maybe a combination of it all, who knows.

Chico MacMurtrie’s Border Crossers are meant to show connections, and that in itself is such a powerful message, especially in this day and age, where connections are either hard to make or too shallow to really mean anything. Border Crossers are here to remind us of this, not necessarily to encourage crossing actual borders, but rather, to encourage peace between those separated by borders.

PREVIEW: Porgy and Bess

“Porgy and Bess” in rehearsal.

Tonight in Hill Auditorium, the incredible culmination of years of research, hours of rehearsal, and the collaborative efforts of dozens of performers and world-class directors will be enjoyed by a completely SOLD OUT crowd. This is the premiere performance of the first-ever Critical Edition of the Gershwins’ Porgy and Bess, brought into the world by the University of Michigan’s own Gershwin Initiative. The Gershwin Initiative has poured over older editions of the opera to bring us what they believe to be a version that most closely resembles the composer’s original intent. This non-staged performance will feature students from the School of Music performing in the orchestra, choir, and as soloists.

If you’re lucky enough to have tickets, be sure to prepare yourself for a long evening: since this is a presentation of the original opera, it will be performed in its entirely. Come well-rested and well-fed so that you can fully enjoy this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!

 

Check out these articles for more information about the performance’s momentous implications for history and musicology.

PREVIEW: The Gershwin’s Porgy and Bess

The Gershwins’ Porgy and Bess can be considered the quintessential American opera of the 20th century. This particular performance is special, however, because it would be showcasing the fruits of the SMTD’s Gershwin Initiative for the first time. George Gershwin died prematurely at 38 and left a trail of hard-to-read handwritten scores that often led to inconsistent musical interpretation. The Gershwin Initiative is a conservation project that aims to analyze and reproduce Gershwin’s work in the way he would’ve wanted it to be shown. Porgy and Bess will be including classics such as “I Got Plenty o’ Nuttin’,” “My Man’s Gone Now,” “Summertime” (listen to an amazing Al Jarreau cover here)  and “It Ain’t Necessarily So” (I played this for an ABRSM piano exam).

Porgy and Bess will be performed on Saturday February 17 in the historic Hill Auditorium.

REVIEW: Edges

College is a time for doing stupid things, they say. And having done more than my fair share of them myself, I can attest to the highs and lows of adulting. But at least I learned a little about myself in the process.

That’s the feeling Pacek and Paul — Michigan students themselves when they wrote the show — knew all too well. And it’s the feeling Edges hits right on the head.

Edges is more a song cycle than a full musical with a plot and fleshed-out characters, a show that feels more like an intimate confessional than a Broadway spectacle. Penny Seats’ staging did justice to that. Kerrytown Concert House is literally a converted house, adding to the idea that these characters were more than just written constructs — they could have been any of us.

The first half of the show was set up almost like a group therapy session. The only sets were a pair of stools, and when it was each character’s turn to sing, they would take a stool and tell their story as the other actors watched from the audience. This worked with the material of the show, but at the same time, some of the actors sat on the right side of the stage, where there were no audience members and where the majority of the audience couldn’t see. I don’t want to fault the company for working within the confines of their space, but this setup annoyed me slightly throughout, as the actors would be turned to the side at times singing to the other characters, making them hard to hear.

Edges operates in two halves — essentially, falling in love and falling out of love. After the opening number (a quintessential “I want” song about being afraid to be who you really are), various characters took their turn singing about all of love’s messy parts. The songs themselves were intensely relatable, but adding to that was the fact that the characters are not given names, adding to the idea that they could be any of us.

One highlight was “I Hmm You” — one of the few songs in the first half sung by two characters — which was equal parts awkward and delightful. The actors executed perfectly what it was like to be a 20-something in love.

But Edges had its share of emotional numbers as well, my favorite of which was “Lying There.” The song, about lying next to the person you love, unable to sleep wondering if they feel the same way, was resonant and heartfelt.

The show’s shift happened at “The Facebook Song,” the first ensemble number since the opener. “The Facebook Song” was hilarious (even if slightly outdated — the number one way you can tell this show was written in 2005 is that Facebook was not only the go-to social network for college-aged kids, it was still called “the Facebook”) and the choreography — where each character held up a cardboard Facebook icon and turned it over to reveal certain postings — only added to the song’s comedy. However, I also felt that the song almost didn’t belong in the show. The other numbers, while not necessarily connected, showed a clear arc, but “The Facebook Song” seemed to not fit in with that arc. It seemed almost as if it were in the show as a marker of sorts between the first half and second half. However, “The Facebook Song” brought down the house and for good reason, so I’m loathe to say it didn’t belong.

In the second half, the audience learns that the relationships set up in the first half haven’t been going well, as the various characters come back onstage and sing an array of breakup songs that are at times hilarious and heartfelt. Actor Emily Manuell — who nailed the emotionally-resonant “Lying There” in the first half — was given a complete change of pace in “In Short,” a number about all the ways she wished the person that once kept her awake would just die. She nailed the comedic timing of the piece, another showstopper that left me laughing out loud.

The show wrapped up with another ensemble number where the characters come together saying they’re ready to be loved again. They’ll likely go through all the same feelings again, but at least they’ll be better for it. And that’s where the show packs its real punch.

At times, Edges was almost painfully relatable, eliciting uncomfortable laughter and the kind of awkwardness that’s funny because it’s real.

That’s how you know they nailed it.

REVIEW: Phantom Thread

Phantom Thread is ridiculous, but never mocking. It is absurd, but the laughs come from understanding the characters’ worries and empathizing with them. Reynolds Woodcock, played by the undeniable Daniel Day-Lewis, lives in a world of his own; one filled with beautifully fashionable dresses and unfortunately loud breakfasts. He is a prominent dressmaker whose designs are worn by celebrities and princesses. His life seems far from standard because it is also entirely separated from practical concerns. All those messy matters are instead delegated to his sister, Cyril (Lesley Manville), who accompanies him everywhere, which again, is never treated as abnormal.  His only remaining focus is on his dresses. And the dresses are unassailable. Meticulously created by costume designer, Mark Bridges, every piece from the House of Woodcock is believably from a master. This immersion is crucial and director Paul Thomas Anderson ensures that it is apparent in every aspect of the film. Woodcock’s house, which also acts as his studio, gleams and the camera highlights every curve of fabric and lace as it is draped over table, mannequin, or woman. It is clear that the film is as passionate and detail-obsessed as the character at its center. The film inhabits the world of Reynolds Woodcock so fully that the audience is inevitably drawn in too.

The effort, of course, is led by Daniel Day-Lewis. The actor has always been known for his devotion to the art. He has outdone himself in what may be his last-ever role, preparing for it by apprenticing with the costume department of the New York City Ballet for months before starting filming. His dedication is most appropriate for Reynolds Woodcock, whose fixation on his craft blinds him to everything else. That is, until, Alma (Vicky Krieps), catches his eye, one fateful morning. At first, the attraction seems strange, an oddly impulsive decision for a man who regulates every action in his life. Yet, like every moment in this film, it is a strangeness that feels normal in the context of Reynolds Woodcock. Every illogical element is matched by one that is entirely sensible. Reynolds and Alma’s relationship is both loving and antagonistic, both childish and mature. Reynolds is set in his strict routine, even breakfast must be conducted with certain restrictions. Alma complies, for a while. It is her pushback that makes the film fascinating. Krieps plays Alma with demureness and a hidden ferocity. She is able to withstand and match the intensity of Day-Lewis, challenging the experienced actor in a way that few actresses have ever done. They are an endlessly captivating pair. Their battles are fought with silent looks, snipping threads, and over-buttered asparagus. It is a war; simultaneously, it is passion. 

The film’s reserve only enhances the tension as Alma and Reynolds never resort to physical violence or even raised voices. They fight privately over unseen things, over perhaps unattainable things. They fight for love, for openness, for vulnerability. These understated struggles are hilarious and relatable in a way that battles against a hoard of CGI aliens can never match. They are, after all, struggles that are faced by all. The desire to share one’s life is met equally by one’s fear of that closeness. Phantom Thread is able to engage every one of those emotions, a prestige film that is able to grin at its own ludicrousness.

PREVIEW: Edges

Thirteen years ago, two 19-year-old Michigan students had a problem. They were being shunned from their school musicals.

Well, that’s not exactly true. Benj Pasek and Justin Paul were still cast, but were given background roles. That’s not out of the ordinary for underclassmen. But, well, theatre kids and college students can be cocky — I should know, I’ve been both — and Pasek and Paul weren’t satisfied. So they decided to write their own show, Edges, about their experience. After all, when you write the show yourself, you can have whatever role you want.

Ask most people today, and they’ve never heard of Edges. And it’s mostly theatre buffs who know the names Pasek and Paul. But their other works are a different story.

La La Land. Dear Evan Hansen. The Greatest Showman.

The accolades are piling up for the pair. They’ve won Golden Globes, Oscars, Grammys and Tonys — a meteoric rise for two guys who graduated only a decade ago.

And while Pasek and Paul are more known for their recent work, Edges — a coming-of-age song cycle written about our generation — is still a cult classic among a certain subset of college students. Edges is no slouch, either, as it won the pair a Jonathan Larson Award (named after the late Rent composer) at the age of 19 — the youngest to ever win.

This week, we, too, can return to Pasek and Paul’s roots and be transported into a world not so different from our own.

I wonder what Pasek and Paul, the 19-year-old theatre “rejects,” would think if you told them that in 2018, their story would almost seem like one right out of a musical — the cocky youth, the show-within-a-show, their rise to the top.

And I don’t know about you, but I want to see where it all began.

Edges, presented by the Penny Seats Theatre Company, runs at the Kerrytown Concert House February 8-9 and 14-16 at 8 PM and February 11 at 4 PM. Tickets are $15 general admission online or at the door, or free with a Passport to the Arts.