REVIEW: The Importance of Being Ernest

Every single male role was played by a female, and the most imposing female role was played by a male. Such was Rude Mechanical’s original conception of “The Importance of Being Earnest,” Oscar Wilde’s classic play published in 1895.

The play is all about relationships. Algernon, played by Cailean Robinson, and Jack, played by Mason Van Gieson, discuss romance and courtship. Both men develop a facade as they pursue two different women, and they build up a tower of lies until it all comes crashing down at the end in perfectly absurd Wilde-like fashion.

Although the play was supposedly changed to have its setting in the 1950’s, I didn’t notice much of a difference from Wilde’s original conception. Perhaps I just don’t know enough about English social history. Either way, the decision to switch genders was brilliant.

I didn’t realize how well the play would go with women in the shoes of men. Every role was well-acted, from Algernon’s well-timed poses as he recited Wildean witticisms, to Lady Bracknell’s diva pose every time he/she entered the stage.

Also losing his/her pants
Also losing his/her pants

Some of the one-liners were especially ironic, given the change of gender, such as when Algernon tells Jack:

“My dear fellow, the truth isn’t quite the sort of thing one tells to a nice, sweet, refined girl. What extraordinary ideas you have about the way to behave to a woman!”

Or this rendition’s focus on the actors fondling their own and each others’ genitalia right in front of the audience (see above picture).

The set design was tasteful without being too imposing. Each act, from Algernon’s flat in London to the drawing-room of the Manor House in the country, had plenty of eye candy and props that the actors were free to interact with at will. There were some scenes where I couldn’t tell if the actions were rehearsed, or if they were entirely ad-libbed. My favorite example of this was in the Garden, where Cecily (in pink) grabs a flower pot and makes some raunchy gyrations with it.

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The only drawback of the play wasn’t because of the acting or directing, but due to Oscar Wilde himself. Say what you will about the man, but you have to admit that he likes his sensational plots. The first act goes out in all different directions, and the second act seems to tread out without telling the audience where its going. It isn’t until the very end of the third act that the play pulls itself together and makes sense of things.  Luckily, Rude Mechanicals made the journey worth it.

REVIEW: Margaret Atwood Reading

The doors to Rackham Auditorium opened at 6:15 and the reading did not begin until 7:00, but by 6:00 people had already filled the lobby of Rackham. I was aware that this event had sold out, but I only realized the magnitude of this upon entering the auditorium. More than 1,000 people had bought tickets to attend this event–placing it among the larger readings that have taken place in Ann Arbor.

After an introduction by one of Literati’s booksellers, Margaret Atwood came on stage wearing darling skeleton gloves, quipping that they were in honor of our upcoming election. She was here to promote her latest book,  Hag-Seed, which is a part of the Hogarth Shakespeare project. Before she read, she explained to us the stages of writing for a project likes this: rash acceptance, buyer’s regret, procrastination, and panic. Interestingly enough, those are the same stages I’m going through while writing this review. However, unlike Atwood, I haven’t been tasked with translating a Shakespeare play (in this case, The Tempest) to novel form.

The book follows Felix, who was a director at a proper theater before being fired and forced to take up a job directing plays in men’s prison. The first scene Atwood read was one describing Felix as he tries to convince an actress to play the part of Miranda in the prison’s production of The Tempest. It was a rather humorous section and showcased Atwood’s wit, but me pulling a line or two from it won’t do the reading justice so I’ll refrain. They’re funny, but only in context. The other section she read was one where one of the prisoners has come to Felix about a rather dry part of the play with some changes he made. What followed was Atwood dryly reading a rap version of the speech Prospero makes in Act 1 Scene 2 of The Tempest, including all claps and snaps. It was not a half-assed section either–Atwood didn’t write a few lines for this rap and move on, though she probably could have gotten away with that. No, she rewrote Prospero’s speech in its entirety and proceeded to read all of it. I can only hope that at some point someone records her reading this rap and leaks it to the internet, because the world deserves to listen to a little ole’ Margaret Atwood read a Shakespearean rap.

Once the reading was over, there was a question and answer section with the audience, which Atwood prefaced with a “if I don’t like your question, I will reformulate it.” Atwood seemed familiar with the questions asked (when do readers ever ask new or interesting questions about books written 20+ years ago?). For example, the first question was about whether The Handmaid’s Tale is intentionally cautionary. To this Atwood broke down the the three backgrounds that led to the book: first, there had been a number of mid-century dystopias, none of which had been written from a female point-of-view; second, it was the Puritans who had laid the foundation for America, not the Founding Fathers, and that none of the events/rules/ways of life in the book were Atwood’s own invention, they had all happened some place, some time; and finally, that the time the book was written, the 1980s, was already seeing the rise of some of this way of thinking, of the religious right, of women who made a living telling other women they should not have jobs and stick to managing their homes. Another audience member asked a question about why Atwood chose to write genre books when she was also a literary author. It was clearly a question Atwood was sick of for she seemed to almost bat it down, stating that she didn’t divide books by genre, but “what I like” and “what I don’t like.” Furthermore, in reference to what she writes about, she said “I did those things because it never occurred to me not to do them.” There were several other questions, ranging from “why is reading important” to “have you scripted the current US election” (she has not), and all in all, it was a lengthy, interesting q&a section. Atwood isn’t just a good author, she’s also a good thinker and one of the more witty writers around. If you are ever given the chance to hear her read or talk–take it.

Photo Credit: Literati
Photo Credit: Literati

REVIEW: Brit Bennett Reading

And the prodigal son returns. Well, not exactly, but that sense of coming home was prevalent throughout the reading. After all, Brit Bennett graduated with an MFA from the University of Michigan only a short time ago. In fact, the Literati staff member who introduced Brit Bennett talked about reading a draft of this novel two years ago. It was a rather personal–and proud–introduction.

Brit Bennett read two sections from her debut novel, The Mothers. The first of these followed Nadia, the girl whose abortion the novel centers on, as she goes to college–at the University of Michigan, of course. The section is prefaced by the unified voices of the mothers–part of what makes the novel so unique–as they talk about how “we tried to love the world,” but this love was beaten out of them by life’s cruelties. Then we are following Nadia as she attempts to navigate university, Ann Arbor, and Michigan winters (Nadia is from California). Bennett threw a lot of criticisms at Ann Arbor and the people in it, the pseudo-liberals who preach tolerance but practice none–I’d call the choice of reading this section bold if it wasn’t for the fact that being the pseudo-liberals they are, Ann Arbor residents love criticism of themselves. They eat it up. After all, such criticisms are always talking about other residents, never themselves–but that’s beside the point. I found this section to be particularly truthful, especially when it talked about how “maybe if you had come from some farm town, it seemed [liberal and perfect]” (as someone who did come from “some farm town” Ann Arbor did it seem like a liberal utopia for a while). But, of course, this section wasn’t just her bashing this city–it was also filled with beautiful lines about Nadia and how she was handling her world. One of these was “this would be her life: accomplishing the things her mother had never done” (for context, Nadia’s mother died before the novel took place). This part demonstrated Bennett’s ability to create a sense of place and to show how her characters develop in it.

The next section focused on Luke, the pastor’s son who was the father of Nadia’s fetus, as he lived his life back in California after she left. The scene placed him at a barbecue with his fellow semi-pro football players and their wives and families–with Luke alone. I found this section less entrancing than the previous one, but one of the things Bennett talked about afterwards in her conversation made it more appealing to me. Towards the end of this section, Luke thinks about the abortion Nadia had and Bennett discussed how she had to imagine how a young man might feel about that because the issue to her seemed so squarely located in the body of the woman. This ability to inhabit another character’s skin, even when you don’t believe the things that character believes, is a great talent of Bennett’s and showcased throughout the book.

Then there was the conversation with Chris McCormick. This conversation was particularly interesting because McCormick had been her classmate in her MFA program–he had read multiple drafts of this book and even given her suggestions (some of which she incorporated). The conversation was thus tuned to the craft elements of the work, the description of how this book came to be (as she’d been working on this book for 7 years, there was a lot of material to foster this talk). One such thing discussed was why Nadia came to Ann Arbor. Originally, Nadia was supposed to go to school in Florida, but eventually it became clear that she needed more of a culture shock–she needed seasons, and most of all, she needed winter. This character was too self-assured, too able to handle things–Bennett needed to get her out of her comfort zone, and as she herself was studying at this university, Ann Arbor was the intuitive choice. Another thing discussed was how Bennett was interested in the aftermath–like I mentioned, Nadia’s mother dies before the book takes place and her abortion, one of the central plots of the book, occurs early on. This isn’t a book about her abortion per se, but about the aftermath of the abortion. Bennett thought this story would be more compact, but eventually she realized that it was longer and more expansive than it seemed at the surface.

Overall, it was an excellent reading. The Mothers is already receiving lots of buzz and attention from critics and I look forward to seeing how far Brit Bennett will go.

The line for the signing after the reading.
The line for the signing after the reading.

Review: Moth Night at Circus Bar

Think of the phrase “hot mess.” Now think of time when your life has been a hot mess, or when you have listened–dutifully–as a friend told you about their hot mess. This was The Moth in a nutshell.

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Although over three hundred people were packed into the room, with dozens standing in the back (including me), each story felt intimate and unrehearsed.

The first story, about one man’s ex-fiance that was 90% perfect, and 10% crazy whenever she drank, warmed us up for the night. Three teams of judges gave their scores after his five minute story, and the results were tallied on a white board at the front of the room. Just like the Olympics.

Satori Shakoor was the emcee for the night. The director of Twisted Storytellers in Detroit, I probably would have paid money just to see this woman perform. Between personal anecdotes, readings of the prompt the audience filled out, and reactions to the storytellers, Satori wove the night together in a way only a superior emcee can do. I think the best part about her was that she never made the night feel awkward, even when there were several potentially awkward moments.

Which brings me back to the stories. One young man decided to go backpacking in the middle of Alaska with friends. That went about as well as you think it would have gone. Another woman–only eighteen–talked about putting two cars out of commission on the way to an appointment. A local story pitted a good Samaritan against a Hawaiian-shirted thief.

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The winner, and without a doubt the best performance of the night, came from a man with a metal plate in his collar bone that had to get an MRI. Although the story itself was not the best of the night, his skill in telling it had all the right twists, a gag that was repeated without being repetitive, and a final shock that turned into a happy ending.

Each story of the night was different, and even with the theme of “hot mess,” common denominators like alcohol and drugs only made it into a few of the ten stories of the night.

I was shocked and impressed that all of the storytellers spoke clearly and concisely. Some stories were better than others, yes, but not a single one of the stories was boring or overly lengthy. In fact, I wish at least one of them had kept going.

 

PREVIEW: Margaret Atwood Reading

Brought to you by Literati, Margaret Atwood, winner of the Booker Prize, writer of more than forty books of fiction, poetry, and essays, beloved sci-fi author, is coming to Ann Arbor. If you’re anything like me, you’ll need a moment to breathe in order to not pass out. This Friday, she will be reading from her latest book, Hag-Seed, which is a retelling of Shakespeare’s Tempest, at Rackham Auditorium. Following the reading will be a signing. The event costs $30 but included in the ticket is a copy of Hag-Seed–unfortunately, tickets are sold out, so you’ll have to track down someone and convince them to sell you their ticket.

PREVIEW: Brit Bennett Reading

Are you the last student remaining in Ann Arbor over Fall Break? Ignoring the three exams and five papers you have due next week? All of your friends are gone and you’re looking for something to do? Well, look no further. This Monday, at 7 pm, Literati will be hosting Brit Bennett who will be reading from her debut novel, The Mothers, which has the literary world buzzing. Brit Bennett recently graduated from the University of Michigan MFA program and won a Hopwood Award during her time here. After the reading, she will be joined by Chris McCormick in conversation.