Category Archives: San Francisco

“Becky Shaw” lights up the SF Playhouse

Photo by Jessica Palopoli

The following article was originally published in the “Stanford Daily” here.
Gina Gionfriddo’s recent work displayed at the SF Playhouse, Pulitzer Prize finalist “Becky Shaw,” is the best piece of theatre in San Francisco at the moment, and indeed, in the last few months. Gionfriddo’s script is trenchant and clever, with enough laugh-out-loud epigrams to fill an Oscar Wilde play. But the play has more in common with early Woody Allen movies like “Annie Hall” that mix pathos with comedy than with “The Importance of Being Earnest.”

The death of Suzanna’s father has left the family penniless – not broke, but without savings. Her mother, Susan (Lorri Holt), who has multiple sclerosis, has taken a younger lover, her house painter, which disgusts Suzanna (Liz Sklar). Her cynical, adopted brother Max (Brian Robert Burns), on the other hand, sees this as a reasonable business deal; she simply can’t afford to hire help to deal with her illness. It has also left Suzanna severely depressed, unable to get off the couch and glued to trashy television stories about prostitutes. As Max puts it, “She has too much free time” to be depressed; Suzanna replies, “I’m a graduate student!”

Becky Shaw is the MacGuffin of the play, which is really a study of relationships and their forms – platonic, romantic and familial – that can sometimes bleed together. Becky (Lauren English), a temp at Andrew’s (Lee Dolson) office, is the seemingly unfortunate recipient of a blind date with Max, a cold-blooded New York finance guy. Max is judgmental, and when Becky shows up by taxi without a cell phone, he asks if she’s Amish or just one of those crazy environmental freaks. Unsurprisingly, their date goes badly: they get mugged, have bad sex and he kicks her out prematurely.

What transpires is the unraveling of every relationship in the play. Suzanna’s husband, Andrew, who saved her from depression after her father’s death, feels responsible for Becky’s post-date trauma and is drawn to nurse yet another sick puppy to health. Is he legitimately and harmlessly kind? Or is this kind of damage something he gets off on? As Max notes to Suzanna, Andrew married the last helpless woman he met. Meanwhile, Suzanna and Max’s semi-incestuous tryst and her dependency on him – which her mother claims he cultivated starting at a young age – start to interfere with her marriage. Do they have a relationship? Is it altogether okay that Susan uses her boyfriend with the understanding that he’s using her, too?

The play is rife with moral ambiguity and asks many questions without really passing judgment on any of its flawed, richly drawn characters. The SF Playhouse proves a wonderful space for this intimate family comedy of “middle-class manners,” as it has been called. Wherever you’re sitting, you get a clear view of all of the actors’ faces and movements. The stage is small, too, which adds a level of claustrophobia to their interactions: the discomfiture within the family is exacerbated by the lack of space to flee from one another. There is a lot of talent onstage: great comedic timing, motivated blocking with seamless movement on the stage and the ability of all the actors to play the gamut of emotions, from fear to joy to dismissive insecurity. But too often did the actors stumble over their lines, jumbling them up; the play needs to run for a couple more weeks to become fully polished. Soon, it will be not just a wonderful piece of theatre, but a masterful one.

Read the article here at the Stanford Daily, where it was originally published.

‘Humor Abuse’ fails to deliver laughs

Photo by Chris Bennion

W. C. Fields once said, “Comedy is a serious business.” Perhaps that’s why comedies like “The Trip” or the play “Humor Abuse” have such dark underbellies despite the seemingly light subject matter. While “The Trip” was a film rife with laugh-out-loud impressions, it was also a meditation on loneliness and middle age. “Humor Abuse” is more about both the excitement and loneliness of having a clown for a father; it’s humorous but not all that funny.

“Humor Abuse” is a one-man show starring Lorenzo Pisoni as himself, a professional clown since the tender age of two. Lorenzo informs us that during childhood, he suffered from “humor abuse.” In his family, making people laugh was valued above all else, and Lorenzo suffered for these laughs. To get a second scoop of ice cream, he had to do a double take routine with his father. Also, Lorenzo learned to juggle fiberglass batons without lessons, and because his hands were too small to grip them, they’d often fall, break and cut up his hands. Years later, he discovered that kid-sized batons existed, but his parents never bothered to mention these to him.

By age five, Lorenzo had signed a contract to tour with the circus and was officially his father’s partner. At 12, he toured without his parents. In “Humor Abuse,” you really get the sense of just how much Lorenzo loved being in the circus. He loved that his father treated him as an equal because they were partners. He loved that he got to see his father in action at work, enjoying himself and being amazing. But it also meant he grew up fast; Lorenzo discovered his father wasn’t really infallible early on, a fact that was difficult to reconcile with his idolized image of his father. It was fun being in the circus, but it was hard work, too.

The production does a marvelous job of balancing the story, showing us the good and the bad in the circus life and why Lorenzo is so conflicted about being a clown. The result is a very honest and poignant story of the difficulties of grappling with childhood, made all the more exciting by the fact that Lorenzo’s experience involved professional clowning.

Director Erica Schmidt succeeds at keeping the action going in the play; it never feels like a series of static monologues. And we never tire of Lorenzo, despite the fact that he is the only person ever on stage. Lorenzo gives a nuanced performance not only as himself but also as his father, re-enacting scenes and routines from his childhood with clowning skill and genuine emotion. He may not be able to make us laugh much while he falls down the stairs, but he can fall down them expertly. His performance is enriched by period photographs of him and his father projected onto a red, circus-like curtain at the back of the stage. The set design and props evoke the circus perfectly, creating an inviting atmosphere that works both for circus re-enactments and as a story-telling environment.

The problem with “Humor Abuse” is that so much time in the play is dedicated to gags that just aren’t funny, although the rest of the audience was laughing heartily. Lorenzo always plays the straight man to his father’s clown, and as he warns us at the beginning, he really isn’t very funny. Whether he’s doing a routine of falling down stairs or failing to climb a ladder while wearing diving fins, it only made me smile and think, as his father would have commented, “That’s funny,” but no laughter would occur. It’s a story about comedy, but it isn’t comedy: it’s dark and rarely hilarious.

This story was originally published in the Stanford Daily here.

‘Fela’ fails to delve deep

The new Broadway musical, “Fela!,” has some fun dance numbers but is largely a disastrous, disconnected and misogynistic production about the life of Nigerian Afrobeat superstar and political activist Fela Anikulapo Kuti. It takes place in the African Shrine, a nightclub in Nigeria where Fela (Sahr Ngaujah) is giving his final concert and telling his life story through the songs that he wrote.

“Fela!” delivers a glorious spectacle with impressive percussive afrobeats and delicious dancing, but the play is so desultory that if there is a message, it gets lost in the jumble. Without a coherent storyline, the production is disorienting. It doesn’t establish tone appropriately. The dance numbers are so vivacious, fun and sexual, that it’s unnerving when we hear excruciating details about how Fela’s wives were tortured in the second act: all signs in the first act pointed towards this being a generally light production.

Even when the production gets serious, it gets serious about characters who have never been developed and that we have never learned to care for: Fela’s wives are indistinguishable, scantily clad background dancers without personality, and his mother (Melanie Marshall) is treated as an idolized savior. While the atrocities committed against them are atrocious by any standards, the play lacks the poignancy that it could have had if any of them had been developed into more than clichés of the messianic mother and the whorish wives. The only character in the play with any development–and even that is shallow–is Fela, our obnoxious host.

“Fela!” is never fully able to create an emotional connection because the entirety of the story occurs in an isolated place–the African Shrine–and is guided by Fela, a largely isolated figure: we rarely see signs of the poor state of the world seeping into the Shrine. Most of the audience is not already well-versed in Nigerian history, making it difficult to guess at the important historical events that are occurring when the play is set. The play doesn’t even provide subtle hints of these. Without the outside world seeping into Fela’s world in the African Shrine, there is no context. And without context, it’s impossible to understand how the world is affecting Fela and how he is effecting change in it.

It’s not an impossible task to achieve this harmony between the story of Fela and his connection to that of Nigeria. Consider “Cabaret,” a play about people and politics, in many ways the predecessor to “Fela!”, where the emcee is our guide–here Fela is our emcee. In “Cabaret,” we get to know the characters well as three-dimensional, realistic people. The reason “Cabaret” is so heartbreaking and moving is that we get to see how the influence of the Nazis is slowly seeping into their world and impacting their lives: the merry singing and dancing is about active denial of the real world. In “Fela,” we can’t quite tell what the point of the singing and dancing is. Mostly, it comes off as shallow entertainment.

“Fela!” provides us with some jaw-dropping dance numbers, with impressively athletic vibrating and gyrating, set to some foot-tappingly good rhythms. But while it had the potential to deal with real issues, such as how and why Fela helped or tried to help his country, it settled instead for crowd-pleasing numbers that focus on sex and feces rather than on the problems Fela was famous for rebelling against.

Published in the Stanford Daily. Online version available here.

Italian filmmakers shine in San Francisco – New Italian Cinema Festival

Last weekend, The San Francisco Film Society’s (SFFS) New Italian Cinema Festival at the Embarcadero Centre Theater in San Francisco closed the SFFS’s impressive annual Fall Season of mini-festivals. The Fall Season included a series of film festivals – Hong Kong Cinema, French Cinema Now, Taiwan Film Days, NY/SF International Children’s Film Festival, SF International Animation Festival – each lasting a few days and showcasing new films from around the world.

The New Italian Cinema festival focused on emerging filmmakers in Italy, many of whom were present to introduce their films and participate in a Q&A afterwards. The festival began with a retrospective of Daniele Luchetti’s films: Our Life, It’s Happening Tomorrow, and Ginger and Cinnamon. Most of the other directors were first time feature directors or relatively new directors: these aren’t just recent Italian films but films by new artists in Italian cinema.

Alessandro Aronodio’s first feature, One Life, Maybe Two, is a dark coming of age story about Matteo, a directionless young adult, who crashed into a parked police car when driving on a slippery road. Two stories play out simultaneously: one in which the crash happens and another in which he stops in time. In both realities, facets of Matteo are revealed, which are true of him in both realities: he’s lost, angry, and bored. The film often references Truffaut’s The 400 Blows, the story of another, younger, troubled youth who gets dealt an unfair set of cards.

Aronodio picks up on the running and water imagery from The 400 Blows, and uses them in his picture to show at once freedom and imprisonment. There is a beautiful ending in which Matteo meets himself at a protest – in one story he is a protester and in the other the riot police – which emphasizes how lost and fragmented Matteo is. These parallel stories so often feel like a weak plot device that we focus more on how the two stories play out differently than on the characters within them. Despite the two stories, Matteo remains largely a mystery: you often feel like you’re straining to find meaning where meaning doesn’t exist. Perhaps Aronodio should have consulted Woody Allen’s Melinda and Melinda, as well, for that is a film that tells two parallel stories – one comedy and one tragedy-  and finds unexpected meaning in both from a device that never seems like gimmick.

Francesco Falaschi’s This World is For You is, on the surface, a light-hearted comedy about yet another directionless youth, Teo, who yearns to be a writer but is sidetracked by family problems, including his father’s debilitating illness, which lead to unexpected responsibilities. Look a little closer and you’ll find a lot of precious insights. On one level, there’s a story of a father and son desperately trying to communicate in a culture where they have never been on level ground, hurting each other as they fail, but somehow finding a balance. On another level, it’s the story of dealing with the realities of first love, where the object of Teo’s desire, Chiara, is a strong, independent woman, whose research on wine will ultimately lead her out of the country and put an expiration date on their relationship. It’s also the story of how the scatterbrained, ambitious Teo, who can’t figure out how to write something honest, comes at it unexpectedly, and finds a way to meet family expectations as well as those he has for himself.

This World is For You is full of humour without undermining the serious themes it deals with. Consider the scene where Teo meets Chiara. He orders cheap white wine and tries to pass it off as champagne to impress her; he discovers, instead, that she’s a wine connoisseur, and that only ignites their attraction. There are also some delightful sceneswhere Teo is fighting with writer’s block, including trying to find the perfect start to his story, and ends up copying out Tolstoy’s famous opener, “Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.” The humour is always entertaining but it also serves to underline just how young and naive Teo is by letting us laugh, gently, at his foibles. It’s easy to dismiss The World is For You as a shallow film, but beneath the light humour, there are a multitude of clever observations about families and the painful transition into adulthood.

Habemus Papam, which has been making positive waves on the festival circuit at Cannes and the Toronto International Film Festival, was the much-hyped closing night film, and the only film by a truly seasoned actor-director, Nanni Moretti. Moretti’s film is sure-footed and mature, a clever, hilarious, and surprisingly gentle satire about the choosing of a new pope. It will be getting a theatrical release in 2012.

When the new pope, Melville (Michel Piccoli), is chosen, he suffers from stage fright, starts to hyperventilate, and absolutely refuses to make his first public address and appearance. Hijinks ensue. They bring a non-religious psychoanalyst (Nanni Moretti) to talk him through it, but locate their sessions in public, with all the cardinals looking in, and forbid the psychoanalyst from asking him questions about sex, his parents, and his childhood. They hold the psychoanalyst in the Vatican until the unveiling of the new pope, and in his boredom, he starts up a volleyball tournament between the cardinals, and divides them by continent: Oceania only has three players and complains but he insists “if you’re good to your people, God will give you a bigger team next year”.

While many great laughs are to be had, the film works so well as satire because of the way it humanizes Melville and the other cardinals. We see the cardinals in their quarters, playing solitaire, putting together puzzles, and taking their medication. We see the cardinals as regular people with regular whims and cravings: they are anxious to leave the Vatican and explore Rome while they have a chance, to get delicious cappuccinos and doughnuts from the outside.

And most importantly, we see Melville, terrified about the task he is being asked to perform for the church. He runs away from the Vatican and begins walking and exploring the streets of Rome, contemplating his doubts and trying to understand his place in the world. He saw a second psychoanalyst who did not know he was the pope, and when asked his profession, Melville responded that he is an actor. We discover that his youthful ambition was to be a professional actor, but only his sister had talent, so despite his love for Chekov – we see him recite part of The Seagull with a troupe of actors – he went into the clergy.

In a suit, losing his breath after too much walking, Melville looks like just another elderly man, and that’s exactly how he feels, ill-equipped for the post of pope. Melville is so realistic, so human, that it becomes hard for us and for him to see himself as this divinely holy figure. All this discussion of acting is not in vain, for when he is finally forced to take up his post, we see him dressing in his papal costume, preparing for the biggest performance of his life. In a way, the film suggests, he has gone into the theatre after all.

The key festivals of the Fall Season may be over, but the SFFS is still screening independent and foreign film at headquarters, and gearing up for its winter programming and the annual San Francisco International Film Festival in the spring. The film scene is alive and well in San Francisco.

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Abridged version was published in the Stanford Daily here.

Review: “Urbanized”, Gary Hustwit’s new documentary

We are a society becoming increasingly urbanized. Fifty percent of us already live in cities, and 75 percent of us will by 2050. Cities face significant challenges: sustainable urban mobility, maintaining green spaces while allowing development, recovering from natural disasters, ensuring good infrastructure and many more. Gary Hustwit’s film “Urbanized” touches on many of these topics to give a broad portrait of cities today by introducing us to some exciting projects happening around the world.

Read the rest at the Stanford Daily

‘Race’ provokes but falls at the finish line

Review of David Mamet’s play, Race, for the Stanford Daily