am in love with Canada. Perhaps it is the result of not having taken a real vacation for several years and perhaps also the result of apparently conjuring up clear skies to accompany us everywhere we wandered. Whatever the reasons, I’m longing to go back.  I appreciated the Canadian irreverence that seemed built-in:  it was there in the media, in conversation, on the bus & ferry. 

In Vancouver, we scoured the paper for shows and came up with a winner, an Arts Club Theatre Company production of Canadian Timothy Findley’s Elizabeth Rex .  Canadian actor/director Janet Wright (she was Mark Wahlberg’s mom in The Perfect Storm) mounts this play with great assurance.  We see Gabrielle Rose as an Elizabeth I  to reckon with.  She clearly has never been the hesitant type; if anything, her assertiveness has pushed her far into the realm of perceived masculine authoritative behaviour, (hence the title).  How then to honor her feelings as a woman who coincidentally has the power to chop off her lover’s head? Feelings are not in the How to Be Queen Handbook. A troupe of players with whom she spends the last hours of that unfortunate’s life, ‘til dawn announces his end, teach her to grieve.  The stable setting is intimate & comforting, costumes unfussy & lighting minimal;  my only quibbles would be that the bookend conceit of Willy Shakespeare’s last hours is awkward & the music unfitting.  An interview with Ms. Wright posted outside the theater was fun;  in it she gleefully reports that having a reputation for being quirky got her in trouble on more than one occasion. Instead of panicking as we in this profession often do, she just decided if they didn’t like her style, fuck ‘em.

Had we the time, there would also have been a humongous film festival to attend;  just looking through the listings was overwhelming, full of fascinating stuff.  The locations, dates & times were conveniently missing however—whose idea was that?  The only way to get that info seemed to be online or by telephone.  Not easy if you’re from out of town.

So back we are in the Bay Area.  Since I am rehearsing in a local theater production myself I’m unfortunately off of gamboling to the theater at every opportunity.  Just attending a show of course is never a guarantee, however. The Berkeley Rep production of Naomi Iizuka’s 36 Views directed by Mark Wing-Davey was one I would have hated to miss.  The playwright’s forceful examination of cultural missteps is obviously very relevant to us today.  I loved the combinations of East & West;  she’s got us nailed as Westerners with somewhat pathetic visions of the so-called worth of antiquities and yet when a Caucasian character suddenly spouts Japanese it seems as though it really is sometimes only our exterior trappings that separates us.  The sets, sound & costumes are by turns haunting, delicate, whimsical & striking, the cast immediate & engaging.  Ebon Moss-Bachrach as John Bell launches himself into the purgatory of a fascinating history which convinces utterly & which is a false as a politician’s stump speech.

Over at the Thrust Stage next door,  through November 11, Adam Rapp’s 90 minute one man show Nocturne, with his brother Anthony Rapp, suffers from comparison to similar efforts, such as Charlie Varon’s, although it is not comedic in the slightest. The performance is marred by the actor’s inability, or the director’s failing, to control his hands;  they become the indicators of every utterance, of which there are way too many, and take focus away from the actor’s face which could carry its load quite nicely without the extra help, thank you very much.  The issue of prose poetry as text for an extended monologue is more serious.  Adam Rapp’s work is begging, pleading, dying for an editor.  There is a one act hiding in the shrubbery; perhaps later on it will emerge.

Locally, the Whiting Writers’ Awards for “exceptional talent and promise” have included Brighde Mullins, a teacher at San Francisco State University.  The $35,000 prize is for a body of work including Topographical Eden winner of the ’97 Jane Chambers Award, Monkey in the Middle and Pathological Venus , which have been produced in New York, San Francisco and London. Her work has been produced by SF’s Thick Description for which a new play by Mullins, Dominant-Looking Males was written.

As of this writing, Aurora Theatre’s new digs are opening, to be added to our downtown Berkeley Theater District.  Exciting times for East Bay theater buffs

Films of Note:

The Curse of the Jade Scorpion

I’m resolute in my refusal to jump on the Trash Woody Allen Bandwagon;  I like his stuff.  So sue me.

Apocalypse Now Redux

There’s a wonderful documentary, Hearts of Darkness, on the making of this film, a photo from which I have hanging in my hall of infamy: FFC is forging ahead,  maybe framing a shot in his mind or something, while a cadaverous Martin Sheen stands there on the point of collapse.  The reissue of this monumental accomplishment is as tormentingly great as it always was.  I liked the French plantation family scene even if it went a bit off on a tangent.

Tortilla Soup

Latino version of Eat Drink Man Woman. Do NOT go to this movie hungry.

Jay & Silent Bob Strike Back

Stretching the envelope farther yet—how tasteless can we get & still be funny?

Greenfingers

True story of an experiment in Britain’s prison system.  Imagine us letting prisoners live like humans & learn something useful. Not too sappy, but of course cleaned up a bit for public consumption.

A Matter of Taste

A great companion piece for a double bill with Harry is Here to Help; it’s got the food, the wine, the quirky madman and it’s French!

Bread & Tulips

Very sweet, lingering visuals, sensitive & harmless.

Rock Star

God, I hope Mark Wahlberg didn’t permanently harm his vocal apparatus doing this thing.  Probably not, but then there’s the hearing apparatus, too. Damn! What those rock star guys do for Art!

Together (Tillsammens)

Swedish hippie film which satisfies on many levels, but probably only really speaks to Boomers, since we lived it.  Wonderfully scuzzy.

Joy Ride

A stomach-churning Lesson in Life for a pair of brothers and one girlfriend.  I like Steve Zahn, (though I gave Riding in Cars with Boys a pass) and he is very relaxed here, very deep into somebody who has no internal warning system for incipient dangerous & stupid behaviour.  This would be great on a double bill with  Vince Vaughn’s Made , if your innards could take it.

From Hell

Surprisingly literate treatment of the Ripper;  great quintet of ‘pinch-pricks’ or ‘bang-tails’ if you prefer, (trust the British to come up with names like that) who are doomed from the start.  It’s Johnny Depp’s sleepy-eyed inspector to the rescue.  Apparently they went for the darker of two endings.

Two romance films with a touch of the Twilight Zone; Serendipity has polish, but no life—Kate Beckinsale is blank & bland, John Cusack is John Cusack, which is not necessarily bad, but he can’t be responsible for missteps in the editing room. Happy Accidents has an unforced ineffable goofy charm, due very much to the chemistry between Marisa Tomei and Vincent D’Onofrio.  Much can be said for supporting casts too—the first has little to offer, the second has strong choices. 

Va Savoir

A long film done with a masterly hand, gives us people to care about, issues to ponder.  Would be good to see again on a rainy afternoon if you can sneak a sandwich into the theater.  Especially neat to see some Pirandello, in Italian even!

My First Mister

Leelee Sobieski’s having one of those years where everything she’s done is released, one film after another.  This does not lessen her talent, it just makes it seem like she must live on a movie set.  I always give Albert Brooks the benefit of the doubt, simple because I can't think of a single movie he’s been in that wasn’t somewhat sentimental, but I also don’t think I’ve ever experienced while he was onscreen the extremes of pain that a hyperschlocky soundtrack induces.  I also like his face even if he saying something mushy—I suppose you could say maudlin; even so, always with heart.

Mullholland Drive

Whoa!

Donnie Darko

They got the family things right, the rest is just futuristic crap.  The arguments at the dinner table are right on and Mary McConnell is very good.

Under the Sun

(Limited run, so what else is new?) Everything plotwise is predictable but done so well that it’s full of surprises anyway.

   © 2001 Claudine Jones

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Winter 2001