The Underpants, April 24, 2005, Alley Theater's Hubbard Stage

Louise: It only lasted two seconds! Theo: Haven't you heard, time is relative! (Holding up newspaper with E=MC2 as headline)

So begins Steve Martin's (yes, that Steve Martin) adaptation of Carl Sternheim's Die Hose, a farce about a woman (Louise) whose underpants fall down in public and how the event reverberates in her life. The defining event happens just before the play opens, and we see the reaction as Louise and Theo (her husband) return home. Eventually two men show up to rent the advertised room in Louise and Theo's apartment; both make excuses for wanting the room, but their real reason is that they were both inspired by Louise's downfall, so to speak. The play was written in 1911 and is set in Germany, 1910. Carl Sternheim has the distinction of being "the only playwright whose work was banned by both the Imperial German and Nazi authorities." The actors, mostly from the Alley Theater Resident Company of Actors (as opposed to their resident company of circus performers?), were superb. While The Underpants does not exhibit as much of Steve Martin's voice as his original Picasso at the Lapin Agile (1996), his touch is evident everywhere. The tone is a combination of the playful but absurd (think his movie Roxanne) and astute sarcasm, with a touch of serious subject matter thrown in for good measure. (Speaking of Roxanne, that scene where he describes his abduction by aliens to an old woman is the best!) One of Louise's admirers, when accused of renting the room under false pretenses asks, "How can a pretense be anything other than false?" The sexual innuendos in this production are not subtle; at one point Louise holds up a sausage and asks Theo, "How would you like your wiener cooked?" Hilarious all the way through, The Underpants ends on a surprisingly empowering note. [5-18-05] Just watched Roxanne. "You know what a quark is?" "I used to, I just forgot right now."

Elemental (Rosta Jazz Avengers), April 16, 2005, Diverse Works

This show by The Rosta Jazz Avengers juxtaposed original jazz compositions inspired by traditional Korean and Japanese music with short, silent films by documentary filmmaker Laura Harrison. ("Why didn't I think of that?" I hear you ask.) I admit to not knowing much about jazz, so this post will be more in the way of comments than a critique. The band consists of four musicians: a guitarist, a bassist, a saxaphonist, and a drummer. They were arrayed on the stage so that each was clearly visible, and the band was flanked by a forest of white fabric tree trunks transcended by a canopy, an elegant design by Nathan Wernig. The screen for the films, of relatively modest size, was behind the musicians. Due to the nature of his instrument, the drummer's movements were the broadest and naturally caught my eye most of the time. In the first composition, "Lull," he made some fascinating noises with a steel bowl containing water. At one point he tossed his drumstick over his drums like a gardener broadcasting seeds. In "Slam," he, well, slammed the drumsticks down with great enthusiasm. During an inspired drum solo, I noticed his foot working a pedal drum while he also played with both hands; he slammed with such fervor that at one point the drumset got away from him and he had to jerk it back (in time with the music, of course). Given how the show was billed, I was expecting more film and less music. The program heavily favored the music, with the films lasting at most three minutes or so each. The films showed a variety of "elemental" images (water, wind, fire) in extreme closeups, such as water in the form of droplets and then bubbles. Also included were images of oscillating guitar strings and a bow rather frantically brushing the bass strings. One image I found striking was of squiggly lines - I couldn't figure out from what, exactly - that shifted around and were reminiscent of handwritten Asian characters. At least one film (I forget which, possibly after "Dark Blue") echoed the rhythm of the preceding composition; we found out in the Q&A period after the performance that the piece was in 7/4 time. Usually I would have noticed such a time signature, but I was so lost in the experience that it went right over my head at the time. Thinking back, the rhythm just seemed natural, a testament to the integration of the musicians with their music and with each other. [Maybe paying attention to the movement of the drummer wasn't so crazy. As described by a friend taking piano lessons: "My breakthrough is my new understanding that the movement of the arms and hands originates from the shoulders. I think this isn't quite correct. I'll take it one step further and say it originates from the core. Eureka! This is just like dance! All movement originates from the core of the body. What's even more interesting is that I can imagine my fingers on the keys as a ballerina's feet. Just as you might brush your foot across the floor, extending it until the last possible moment before releasing it into the air, I can imagine my fingers doing the same to build emotion into the music. If its a fast piece, my fingers may jump across the keys. Suddenly, I'm not just playing notes - I'm playing music. Ahhh, how wonderful."]

Maximal Schnapper (Suchu), March 31, 2005, Barnevelder Theater

With a name like Maximal Schnapper, it's got to be confusing. The new work by Jennifer Wood and the Suchu dancers has some nice moments, but it was hard to discern a point to the show. (Ok, birds, we get it.) The white costumes on all the dancers in front of the white curtains and floor was soothing, but it put more pressure on the choreography to keep us interested. Unfortunately, the choreography didn't always deliver. The show started with the dancers in a line in front of the curtain, gesturing like crazed yuppies who just wanted to get their grande mocha cappuccinos so they could get out of there. It progressed to everyone dancing on stage doing something different, to a few people dancing on stage doing something different, to everyone dancing on stage doing something different. During most of the dancing, images of birds along a coastline were projected onto the back curtain. There were some nice supported releases in there, and Jessi Harper really added intensity to the movement and made sitting through the show worth it. That's not to say I ever wanted to walk out, but I did do some serious yawning by the end of the first act. The music at the beginning of the second act really got my attention. It was appealing music by David Lang featuring bells, but it was so loud that I had to cover my ears to stay out of pain. Note to sound guy: it's much louder in the chairs. The highlight of the show was a duet with Aileen Mapes and Toni Leago Valle (I think) towards the end of the first act. The theme of the dance was competition for dominance in the animal world, and it really showcased the dancers' playfulness. The most puzzling dance involved the image of a tanker parked just off the coast. The music was dark and threatening, and the dance seemed to imply that tankers are bad, but not really why. There were a few sections where the dancers actually moved in unison, and it was a welcome relief from everyone dancing on stage doing something different. [A snarky side note: the program contained an insert showing names of donors to the company for the past four years. What are the company directors saying by listing themselves as donors? And why haven't they donated this year?!] [One more thing - yea for Jennifer de Vega Haines for including mention of her dachshund in her bio!]

The King and I, March 20, 2005, Hobby Center's Sarofim Hall

I was going to blog about this performance, but I ran out of time/mental energy and subsequently discovered that the review in the Houston Press said almost everything I wanted to say anyway! So go read it, and pretend you're still reading my blog.