Category Archives: Top picks

“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.

Review: “Coriolanus”

With Laurence Olivier and Kenneth Branagh before him as the gods of modern Shakespeare, Ralph Fiennes has a lot to live up to. In “Coriolanus,” he proves he just might be the master of Shakespeare on film for the 21st century.

In “Coriolanus,” Fiennes skillfully transports the Shakespearean play into a convincing modern piece – all without changing the language. While Branagh’s Shakespearean adaptations favored long, ten-minute shots, allowing the scenes to play out as if on stage, Fiennes daringly transforms the play into the language of film and of the film genres that best suit the material. The scenes never last more than a few minutes, giving the film energy and momentum and making it feel like we are watching a war or revenge film, not a work of classical theatre.

Working with a significantly pared-down screenplay by John Logan, there is time to savor the important dialogue that does remain, and to let images and film conventions fill in the blanks. The television broadcast is used frequently and very effectively for exposition in the film: Coriolanus (played by Fiennes) is a powerful political figure, so we expect that this is how the masses would get their information about him. What better way to stage monologues criticizing his actions than on a television talk show, with the intonation of TV commentators? Coriolanus never soliloquizes, never connects personally with the audience, so all that matters in creating his character for us is his image as broadcast on television.

“Coriolanus” is a play about an angry man whose hubris trumps his political ambitions and whose rash temper causes him to team up with his enemy to wage war on his own country in defense of his pride. He responds viscerally to everything – he is, after all, a military man – and Fiennes situates the play within film genres where this makes sense. It’s a cross between a war film, a political thriller and a revenge picture, with enough physical brutality and honor not to be out of place in a Western. When Coriolanus is exiled, the first image of his departure is his large black boots pounding on the ground as he walks. We get many close-ups of Coriolanus’s scarred face and body, scars he refuses to put on spectacle for political gain, and of his mouth, spitting out words in a fury.

When we change locations, titles flash on the screen to tell us where we are, much like the globetrotting action flicks of today such as “The International” or “Haywire.” When Coriolanus campaigns for consul, he speaks to the commoners and shakes their hands in a montage that would feel just as at home in “Primary Colors” or “The Ides of March.” The political discussions are set in cold business offices, with Coriolanus’s opposition dressed in fancy suits, effortlessly emphasizing their mind-over-body mentality.

These cinematic feats would be worthless if Fiennes got the language wrong, but he and his cast nail it. Vanessa Redgrave as Volumnia, Brian Cox as Menenius, James Nesbitt as Sicinius and of course Ralph Fiennes himself, give incredibly lucid line readings, with tones that fits the modern setting. The words may be in iambic pentameter, but the quality of the acting brings them to life; it’s a faithful Shakespearean adaptation.

But this is Fiennes’s first feature as a director, and his inexperience shows. The film is shot almost entirely, and misguidedly, with a handheld camera, to give the work immediacy and disorient us. However, it mostly comes off as lazy directing: Fiennes is still uncertain where to put the camera, what to focus on, or for how long. “Coriolanus” is a thoughtful, though imperfect, rendering of an often-overlooked Shakespeare play, and it’s proof that Fiennes is going to be a force to reckon with not just in front of the camera, but also behind it.

This text is copied from the original article, published in the Stanford Daily here.

Review: ‘Pina 3D’

Pina Bausch was a German modern dance choreographer, famous for bringing elements of the real world onto her stage, incorporating water, dirt, rocks, city streets and cafés into her choreography. In “Pina 3D”, director Wim Wenders brings Bausch’s choreography seamlessly offstage into the real world–shooting parts of the dances on city streets, in the forest, on a tram, in an industrial park and on the beach–while still giving us glimpses of the performances on stage.

In “Pina,” Wenders works with Bausch’s dancers to bring segments of her “Café Muller,” “The Rite of Spring” and “Vollmond” vividly to the big screen. Cinematographer Hélène Louvart shoots effectively in 3D, which is all oriented behind the screen, creating the effect of watching dance occurring in a three-dimensional space. It’s as close to theatre or live dance as you can get on film. Here, you have the advantage of being able to get close to the dancers, to clearly see their facial expressions or the details of a particular move.

Wenders makes modern dance, which can easily be alienating until you get accustomed to it, accessible to the dance neophyte. Each of the three pieces are shown in relatively short segments, no more than 10 minutes each, and are interspersed both with one another and between the stage and the outside world. The advantage is that if a certain number doesn’t quite click for you, it is normally finished before you are too bored.

The disadvantage is that too often, the segments that you love are too short. For more seasoned dance appreciators, this can be frustrating throughout: Wenders may cut away from a particular angle or move of interest at an inopportune time, and you can’t see entire numbers in sequence. In a way, this is pop dance for the masses, in the same way that symphonies perform “pop” classical numbers where they play the month’s highlights instead of famous pieces in their entirety.

Nevertheless, “Pina” still brings a new dimension to the work of Pina Bausch by bringing it onto the streets and onto the beach. It gives the dance an added sense of urgency and spontaneity. It’s invigorating to see Pina Bausch’s choreography performed by the ocean, with the dancers kicking around in the water, and then to see how Bausch translated that setting and immediacy to the stage. It is equally exciting to see Bausch’s work re-imagined in the real settings that she re-created indoors.

One of the best dance numbers, which epitomizes how Bausch’s choreography is dance, theatre and life, all at once, comes from “Café Mueller.” The dance is set in a café; the stage is full of tables and chairs. A couple starts off in tableau, the woman resting her arms around her partner’s neck. A third person, a man, enters and moves the woman’s arms to rest on her partner’s waist, and lifts her up into her partner’s arms. Her partner immediately drops her, and she stands up, puts her arms around his neck and holds onto him for dear life. The third dancer comes back and the process repeats. Every time it repeats, it gets faster. The faster it gets, the more dramatic, the more urgent and the more charged it becomes. It is dance, but there is a story arc that makes it theatre and a familiarity that makes it a great reflection of life. And up close, with the camera right in the space with the actors, whether on stage or on location, it exists not as just a reflection of life but as life itself. Suddenly, Bausch’s mantra, “Dance, dance, otherwise we are lost,” makes perfect sense.

This review was originally published in The Stanford Daily here.

Solid ‘Story’ in San Jose: Review of West Side Story

When “West Side Story” opens, we are introduced to two New York street gangs: the Sharks and the Jets. And they’re dancing with fisticuffs. It takes a few minutes to get used to the fact that the stage-fights will be dance-fights, but once you do, you know you’re in for a ride. The cast of this Broadway revival tour in San Jose can definitely dance. This is a show with a story told largely through song and dance; it’s physical and visceral and, for the most part, it’s done pretty darn well.

“West Side Story” is the epitome of what a good musical should be. It’s full of memorable songs, impressive dance numbers, and a poignant story to tie it all together. Leonard Bernstein composed the complex and enduring music with lyrics by Steven Sondheim, choreography reproduced from Jerome Robbins’s original work for the play and a story based on Shakespeare’s “Romeo and Juliet.”

It’s the Upper West Side in the 1950s, and our Romeo is Tony, an American and the former leader of the Jets. His Juliet is Maria, a Puerto Rican immigrant whose family belongs to the opposing street gang, the Sharks. The gangs hate each other based on principle and unshakeable racism. But when Tony (Ross Lekites) and Maria (Evy Ortiz) meet at the local dance, it’s inauspicious, colour-blind love at first sight.

The story is told largely through song and dance. Bernstein’s music is a great challenge to sing: it requires a huge vocal range and the ability to master difficult syncopated rhythms and melodies with challenging intervals. Ross Lekites, as Tony, owns his musical part. He has a powerhouse voice with large and beautiful range that never becomes operatic. Every note is clear, with perfect pitch, allowing the music to shine to its fullest. Ortiz’s voice is meeker, by comparison, but full enough to get the message across. The rest of the cast does a fine job tackling this complex but rewarding material. Unlike many modern musicals, you will leave “West Side Story” humming the songs.

This production is wonderfully choreographed and staged, making excellent use of space and of James Youmans’ wonderful set design, which places you right in the streets of New York. The love scenes between Tony and Maria always take place on an island set-piece–her balcony, her bed or an empty stage without a background–because, as they lament in the song “Somewhere,” their relationship doesn’t belong in the world they live in. When the Jets do the famous number “Cool” right before meeting with the Sharks for a rumble, they start off in Doc’s drug store. Then the store set-pieces disappear, allowing the Jets to take over the stage, which is now that piece of territory in the city that they are so intent on defending. We also witness this territory-marking through dance in “Dance at the Gym.”

The biggest flaw in the production is that it far too often stoops to gain the easy, low-comedy laugh. The result is that the action feels less weighty, the tragedy less serious–it leaves the audience not invested enough in the plight of the two lovers. When done right, “West Side Story” should have no trouble getting an audience to tear up. This is further aggravated by the clumsy scenes with dialogue that often feels awkward and inadequately rehearsed. These scenes disrupt the flow of the story. This alienates the audience from what is otherwise an emotionally involving journey. Thankfully the show always recovers its steam as soon as we hit the next dance number: the tempo, volume, and melody of the music work together to elicit a strong emotional response. It is by no means a perfect production, but what it does well makes up for its shortcomings.

A revised version of this article was published in the Stanford Daily here .

The best is yet to come: 2012 in Jazz

Between Stanford Jazz, Yoshi’s Jazz Clubs in San Francisco and Oakland, Zellerbach Hall and the San Francisco Jazz Festival, the Bay Area is a great place for jazz enthusiasts, and there’s much to look forward to in 2012. It’s one of the reasons why we can attract so many world-class artists who simply love playing the Bay Area.

Start the year off in San Francisco in the Fillmore jazz district at Yoshi’s, where you can catch trumpeter Roy Hargrove’s Quintet (Jan. 12–15), vibraphonist Bobby Hutcherson (Jan. 20–21) and the great bassist Stanley Clarke with his fusion band (Jan. 26–28). Keep your eyes peeled for more great concerts at Yoshi’s. Head to Berkeley on Jan. 29 to see the great young jazz pianist Alfredo Rodriguez do a solo concert in the Wheeler Auditorium.

Read the rest of this preview of Jazz in the Bay Area at the Stanford Daily.

Best TV moments of 2012

Read the article here. It’s co-written with other Stanford Daily staffers; my parts are “AH”.

“The Good Wife”–Alicia Florrick finally kicks her husband out

In the last two years, we’ve watched her wade through so much chaos caused by her adulterous, philandering husband as she secretly pines for Will Gardiner. How empowering for her to finally stop being “the good wife” and give his undeserving ass the boot.

..and Peter Florrick teams up with Cary to declare war on Alicia
 It’s proof positive that Peter can be such an awful sleaze-bag, but it was terribly exciting to anticipate just how bitter and scary he could be and how destructive he might be to Alicia. We hate him for it, but we kind of love the show for having him go there.

-AH

Read the full article here.

Best Jazz Albums of 2012

Read the full article at the Stanford Daily.

Songs of Mirth and Melancholy”–Branford Marsalis and Joey Calderazzo

Jazz saxophonist Branford Marsalis and pianist Joey Calderazzo’s much-anticipated duo album of original music is absolutely marvelous, with a mix of foot-tapping numbers like “One Way” and beautiful ballads like “The Bard Lachrymose.” The result is a wonderful album that shows off what a jazz duo is meant to do.

 

33”–Alex Pangman

Canadian songstress Alex Pangman transports us back to the 1930s with her new album, “33”, full of songs almost exclusively from 1933 in celebration of her 33rd birthday. Pangman updates these old songs for a modern audience while still maintaining an authentic sound that’s true to the era. The albums includes songs like  “Happy As The Day Is Long,” “Shine” and “I Found A New Baby” that are so upbeat they’re sure to wake you up, get you smiling and get you on the dance floor. There are also several ballads to pull on your heartstrings like Pangman’s composition “As Lovely Lovers Do,” which sounds like it could have been written in the 1930s and “I Surrender Dear.”

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.

My Afternoons with Margueritte

My Afternoons with Marguerittecould have been manipulative and maudlin but it manages to mostly just be touching. It’s a simple story of a seemingly dim-witted but kind-hearted man, Germain (Gerard Depardieu) who, despite still living next door to his mother, has never felt loved by her. A chance encounter in the park while watching the pigeons with the radiant ninety-two year-old Margueritte (Giselle Casadisus) sparks the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Margueritte is educated and patient and she reads the classics of modern literature to Germain, starting with Camus’s “The Plague”, igniting his imagination and inviting him into a world of words and stories. Much of the plot is obvious and predictable: Germain finds a surrogate mother figure in Margueritte; she helps give him confidence; and he returns the favour.

Yet the story is told with such tenderness that it doesn’t matter: when the film elicits tears, they’re earned. Consider a scene early in their friendship when Margueritte compliments Germain on his remarkable auditory memory and he responds by saying “no, no, I just remember everything I hear”. The camera lingers on Margueritte in a private moment as she recognizes that he has misunderstood, kindly chooses to ignore the comment, but does not judge or correct him. He may be her student but she treats him like an equal.

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