REVIEW: Choir Boy by the Rude Mechanicals

The subtitle “…A moving story of sexuality, race, hope, gospel music, and a young gay man finding his voice” was already enough to get me to the Lydia Mendelssohn Theater on a Saturday night to see this play. Then I found out that Choir Boy was written by Tarell Alvin McCraney, the Academy Award-winning writer of the film Moonlight, and I was doubly sold. Something to know about me: I love any chance to walk in someone else’s shoes for a bit, especially those with vastly different stories than mine.

This production was put on by Rude Mechanicals, a student-run theater group on campus. They produce one play a semester and run everything themselves, from costumes to set design to the actors and crew. This was the first Rude Mechanicals production I’d ever been to and I was impressed. The trailer they made for the play was really cool and just shows how much work they put into it:

I won’t spoil the plot for anyone who has yet to see this gem of a play, but I will say that it is so very RELEVANT. A recurring theme throughout the story is intimacy: who gets deprived of it in society, who you’re allowed to have it with. The actors were so incredibly talented and displayed the intimacy of the play so well. My favorite character was Anthony, the main character’s roommate, for this reason. Whenever the cast sang together it filled the entire theater and gave me chills. They harmonized like they could do it in their sleep. The audience was super into it – cheering and clapping after each musical number, ooh-ing in sympathy when characters got hurt, hmm-ing to the lines of dialogue that struck the deepest.

I will say that I don’t think this was a very accessible production. None of the performers wore microphones which made it hard to hear them at times, especially when they were speaking with their backs to the audience. More than once I would hear the audience burst out into laughter around me and wonder what joke I had just missed on stage. The seating arrangement of the Lydia Mendelssohn theater is also not my favorite and isn’t tiered in a way that allows you to see the stage well from the rows that are not at the front. It’s a historic theater which is something to keep in mind. All in all I think the students did what they could with the space they had.

If you have a chance to go see the Rude Mechanicals’ production of Animal Farm next March, I highly recommend you take it!

REVIEW: Eurydice

“This is what it is to love an artist: The moon is always rising above your house. The houses of your neighbors look dull and lacking in moonlight. But he is always going away from you. Inside his head there is always something more beautiful.” – Sarah Ruhl, Eurydice

 

Eurydice read like bundle of freely associating thoughts and tasted, on occasion, cloyingly maudlin. Nevertheless, I appreciated the relative lightheartedness of this rendition that held it distinct from the tragic tone of the original tale of Orpheus and Eurydice, and its refreshing perspective shift to that of a female protagonist. Sarah Ruhl’s Eurydice not only rewrites but also seems to directly challenge the classic Greek myth; instead of being centered around the husband Orpheus’ (Kieran Westphal) epic journey to retrieve his wife Eurydice (Maggie Kuntz) from the depths of the Underworld, Ruhl centers the play around Eurydice’s personal experiences and the ultimate verdict she must make: returning to the living world with Orpheus or remaining in the Underworld with her father. In spotlighting her verdict, Ruhl allows Eurydice’s character the empowerment and dimensionality that the classic Greek myth denies her, whilst introducing themes beyond the frailties of human trust and spirit, such as the complexities and ephemeralities of memory, communication, language, and love.

Though the Rude Mechanicals‘ cast, direction, production, and design did an overall wonderfully impressive job in effectively conveying the refreshing eccentricities of Sarah Ruhl’s play, I couldn’t help but search for more within Ruhl’s dialogue and writing, which collaterally impaired the rhythm of the production. For some unperceived reason and for the entire duration of the production, I found myself either cringing at saccharine one-liners, snickering with the audience, or passively waiting for the closing of a scene. Though it’s plain to see that Ruhl intentionally chooses to structure Eurydice in a more painterly storytelling manner marked by freely associating motifs and ideas, I saw a disconnect between the intention of emotional release from the audience and certain syrupy moments in the production that occupied a disproportionate amount of stage time. It was during superfluously long scenes such as the Father unravelling the string ‘room’ he constructs for Eurydice that I felt the most passive in my viewing, and therefore disconnected from the emotions of defeat and hopelessness that the scene is meant to elicit.

Despite the slight awkwardness in timing and emotional translations, I enjoyed the red string motif present throughout the production. Intuitively, I interpret red string as a symbol of connection and of relationships impacted by fate – I thought that this motif translated especially well in the context of Ruhl’s Eurydice, in which the miscommunication and overall character differences between Eurydice and Orpheus are highlighted. This miscommunication and hesitance on Eurydice’s part is what ultimately causes Eurydice to call out and violate the rules Orpheus’ must follow in order to revive her. This scene appeared the most impassioned and dynamic to me; both Kuntz and Westphal beautifully portrayed the hesitancies and doubts both characters’ spirits were in turmoil with in the most artistic fashion. After expressively pushing and pulling with the string in a shifting, dance-like sequence, Eurydice eventually calls out to Orpheus, who turns back as the pent up tension from the mutual string-pulling comes to an abrupt climax and subsequently two simultaneous outbursts from each character. The cast’s various interactions with the red-string were notably artful and succeeded in showcasing the tension running through Eurydice and Orpheus’ strained marriage as well as the imperishable relationship between Eurydice and her Father.

REVIEW: A Streetcar Named Desire

A masterpiece of Southern Gothic at its best, Rude Mechanicals put on Tennessee Williams’s iconic play “A Streetcar Named Desire” and executed it with intensity and emotional fervor. Proper and aristocratic-at-heart Blanche DuBois, portrayed wonderfully by Juliana Tassos, travels to New Orleans to stay with her sister after she lost their family plantation, and her lighthearted yet grand arrival soon takes an ominous turn. Stella, played by the talented Stella Kowalski, welcomes her with open arms, yet it is clear that Blanche does not belong in this dilapidated apartment, nor in the life of Stanley, her husband. Jack Alberts executes this intense character with scary yet admirable fortitude, his sudden outbursts captivating our attention with a breathtaking startle. Though Stella and Stanley have an animalistic love and desire for each other, Stanley’s propensity toward violence drives a permanent wedge between him and Blanche while driving the play forward toward its imminent end. Blanche’s Southern mannerism and charms and denouncement of realism directly contrast Stanley’s aggression and manhood and pragmaticism, and this dance between their personalities and views of life lead to an inevitable clash between the two, with Stella caught trying to mediate it in the middle.

The physical and emotional abuse of Stella by Stanley, followed directly by their subsequent embrace, is mirrored by Eunice and Steve, portrayed by Jillian Lee Garner and Jackson Verolini, which shows this unfortunate commonality of brutal marriages within the Southern lifestyle. Though Stella occasionally tries to stand up to Stanley, his loud strength always overpowers her, and she always goes back to him when he calls for her. In the very end, Stella’s fearful and morose isolation in her bedroom and Eunice’s somber reflection on the doorstep while Stanley returns to the next room to play poker shows the distinct separation between the emotionally-scarred women of the play and the misogynistic yet dominant men.

Blanche’s doomed relationship with Mitch, played by Austin D’Ambrosio, reflects her inability to confront her past and face the light. As Blanche’s past is revealed, from her dead husband to her stay in hotels to her forbidden relationship with a student, she slowly withdraws into her fantasies. Stanley’s role in her hysterical breakdown is more than direct, revealing her past to others and furthermore, sexually assaulting her. Blanche’s gradual mental deterioration was painful to watch, yet there was a beauty in Tassos’s performance of it. Her thoughtful and regretful soliloquies throughout the play solidified her tenderness and her talent, even through the pain.

The Southern dialects of the characters, combined with the rapid speed of their delivery, sometimes made it tough to understand their words, but it captured the setting of the place and their frenzy. The lighting and scenery set the mood, as did the foreboding tones that often sounded in between scene transitions. Every character in this play is complex and hypocritical to an extent, and this cast did a phenomenal job bringing these flaws to life and making these characters seem human, however flawed. With Blanche’s unacceptable sexual behavior and Stanley’s abhorrent violence, these characters bring out the best of the Southern Gothic genre, and Tassos, Alberts, and Avnet excelled in putting on this phenomenal production.

PREVIEW: A Streetcar Named Desire

Rude Mechanicals is performing one of the greatest pieces of Southern Gothic literature and modern American theatre. “A Streetcar Named Desire” follows Blanche DuBois, a Southern belle coping with personal losses who goes to stay with her sister Stella in New Orleans. There, she witnesses the volatile relationship between Stella and her husband Stanley, and her involvement can only lead to pain. Tennessee Williams’ brilliant play is taking place in the Lydia Mendelssohn Theatre this weekend at 8 PM on April 5 and 6 and 2 PM on April 7. Tickets can be bought at MUTO in the League Underground, where a Passport to the Arts can be redeemed for a free ticket as well.

REVIEW: Let The Right One In

The concept of this story is oddly unique for a vampire narrative. Just in the last decade, we’ve endured an explosion of often awful, needlessly obnoxious tales of those immortal blood suckers. Of course, there’s the Twilight saga, which infested the hearts and minds of middle schoolers everywhere (and of which came an entire parody film aptly named Vampires Suck), but we must also remember other spoofy concoctions like Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter and What We Do In the Shadows. Thus, when presented with yet another vampire-related tale, it’s hard not to shudder before stepping forward to accept it.

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I think I know what it is that makes Let The Right One In different from the rest of the recent slew of trashy vampire stories: its innocence. The main characters Oskar and Eli are children (or at least, Eli looks like a child), which restricts the themes of lust present in every other depiction of vampires in popular culture. While there is action in Eli’s killing, these scenes are distorted by the fact of her childish appearance–she cannot be taken for a fearsome murderer when we see her as a little girl. The film industry, however, loves to draw heavily on action, relying on it while allowing the actual storyline to suffer.

The Rude Mechanicals put on a great production, despite a few flaws that served as mild distractions from the play. The lighting worked wonders on the mood of the set, a ghostly blue that made the trees glow eerily, and made the playground structure dully shine. Although the soundtrack sometimes seemed like a Stranger Things ripoff, the music was still beautifully emotional, and was able to enhance the feeling of a scene. There were a few minor issues with the timing of some sound effects, as well as parts where the music overpowers dialogue or is simply distracting next to the action of the characters.

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In terms of acting, I was impressed by most of the cast. Oskar (played by Chan Yu Hin Bryan) made a quite believable 12 year old, though he could easily switch on and off a more serious tone. The bullies (Ethan Haberfield and Nathan Correll) were deliciously evil, contorting their faces into bloodthirsty smirks as they tortured little Oskar, even managing to make their voices crack in true prepubescent form.

I was disappointed to find myself feeling something lacking in Eli’s (Emma Steiner) performance. In emotional scenes with her “father,” she was amazing; the stage lights seemed to give more light to her eyes than those of anyone else in the cast. Playing a character who is a 200 year old playing a 12 year old is no easy feat, I can imagine. I could see she was taking an understandable angle: Eli was stiffly attempting to act the same age as Oskar, but did not have the social intelligence to do so properly. This angle should have worked, but at some points it only sounded false and robotic. The same goes for Oskar’s mother (Juliana Tassos). She seemed to have some trouble with acting as a character decades her senior–she simply did not have experience to draw off of, and instead came off as a caricature of a stressed, aging alcoholic. Beyond this, though, she was quite skilled at knowing how to place herself on the set, from the positioning of her limbs on the couch to a somber lean on a tree, she did a good job of becoming a sad skeleton of a woman.

I would recommend that anyone looking to delve into the wonderful world of theatre attends an upcoming performance by the Rude Mechanicals. You can access their calendar of events at their website: umrudemechanicals.com.

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.