Voting with Your Dollar: Things Making Me Mad Againby Randi / September 27, 2019Appropriate at the Donmar: So Much to Work With, So Much that Doesn’t Work
Today’s show is Appropriate, playing at the Donmar Warehouse until October 5.
In the week leading up to our performance of Appropriate, husbo and I were debating the pronunciation of the title: Was it “appropriate” like when something is or is not proper? Or was it “appropri-ATE”, like what white people with dreadlocks do to a culture that isn’t theirs? Is it both?! Both would be amazing. We were pumped. Sadly, our intrigue over the title was more exciting than the actual play.
While the show does somewhat engage both meanings of the word, Appropriate puts a lot of interesting feelers out there regarding racism and prejudice and how modern-day Americans deal with their history and their present relationships with bigotry and what’s proper and what’s not – but fails to deliver real meaningful conversation about any of it. We have a family drama (a very classic-feeling one in many ways, largely because the playwright ‘stole’ (his words!) bits from all the classic American plays) of a pretty shittastic family convening at their deceased patriarch’s plantation home before it goes to auction, and, as expected, ghosts (and ghost-like hoods) from the family’s history are dug up, as are interpersonal issues between the remaining relatives and their own prejudices.
The plot centers on the three grown children of the patriarch, Franz (a total fuck-up former child rapist??) ( played by Edward Hogg), Bo (who seems semi normal) (played by Steven Mackintosh), and Toni (Jean-Ralphio was really singing about her and not his sister – she is THE WORST) (played by Monica Dolan), and their families. When a book of horrifying old photographs – of black people being lynched – are found, reactions vary. Most want to sell the photos to pay off the father’s lingering debts. Some characters just want to hide them from their kids. The struggle over what to do with the pictures reflects the larger struggle among the family of whether they trust each other (they do not) and of what these pictures mean for them, for their memories of their father, and whether they care.
Toni, she doesn’t care. Toni sucks. I can’t BELIEVE that they got the character of Toni to suck even more than the character who literally was a child rapist. Dolan starts off the show pitched at an 11 on a scale of 1-10 so she has nowhere to go and no choice but to stay at an 11, just screaming at the same level of intensity so you never really care about anything she says and can too easily ignore her. You wait and wait for this main character to explain in an impassioned climactic reveal the reason why she is such a g-d bitch to everyone and why she doesn’t care that her father was a klan member, or why she’s cool with her teenage son using racist language, or why she hates everyone in her family especially her brother’s Jew wife (this is a phrase that is used), aside from the obvious reason of ‘she’s also a bigot’, but instead, her big climactic reveal is that she’s sad (but in a loud way) because there’s no one left in the world who held her as a baby. Fuck you, lady. That’s most people. And that’s not a good enough excuse to be a racist piece of shit. In fact, nothing in the play helped give the characters enough reason to act as they do, in all their variously bigoted ways.
And that might be the most brilliant part of the play – how realistically shitty it made its characters, how realistic it is that Toni would be racist like her father and that her teenage son would be too, and that when they use racist language no one would be around to hear them and Toni wouldn’t think anything of it. But there’s so much that feels close to powerful that stops short. There’s so much that could be said about dealing with the father’s racist history, but instead there’s a lot of bickering among siblings. Which is again, realistic, but the less interesting choice.
The playwright, Branden Jacobs-Jenkins, is relatively young man whose works are already regarded as modern American classics. He’s African-American, so we know that his decisions about how to discuss racism were carefully and precisely made. But, I honestly think that more than any other show I’ve ever seen in London, this one can be too heavily influenced by its audience. During the entire last third, the elephant in the room, at least for me, is that no one in the all-white family at any point says ‘maybe we shouldn’t be profiting off of black suffering again,’ off of black people’s trauma that their family caused. It seems like the family fails to say this precisely because they are so terrible and because their whiteness blinds them from this realization. And I believe that’s kind of what BJJ was going for, the power of what he doesn’t show or tell, but I think the mostly-white London audience would have to be in on the joke for that to work here, and they are really, really not. It seems like a vital point that he left unsaid, assuming that decent people would find the omission flagrant, but maybe there aren’t as many decent people as he thinks.
And along the same lines, I hope, I really hope, that he wanted audiences to find the same problems with how the play and the characters treat Jews, but I fear that I’m misplacing this hope. AS USUAL, London audiences react in really troubling ways to anything about Jewishness. Bo’s wife, Rachael (played by Jaimi Barbakoff) – a character that Ben Brantley called “defensively Jewish” in 2014 even though a) that’s not apparent and b) that’s not a thing? would you say that about a black person? (Brantley is such an ass) – tells Toni the father did not like her because she was Jewish. Although this sheds more light on the father’s definite racism, our audience dismisses it, agreeing with Toni that this Jew doesn’t have anything worthwhile to say, instead of realizing for themselves that this is A Bad Take. I’ve shared frequently over the years how troublingly London audiences react to anything Jewish in plays – like when they laughed really hard in Caroline, or Change, when Caroline tells her young Jewish charge that he will burn in hell (they did not laugh like that in NYC (because it’s…not funny)) – and this was another doozy. When Toni calls Rachael a slur, when Toni dismisses Rachael’s valid concerns about her father, saying he didn’t like her not because she’s a Jew but because she’s an annoying person – all of this made our audience side with Toni, who is the wrong person to side with. I doubt BJJ expected this, or at least I hope he didn’t mean for it. When Toni and Rachael fight, the audience’s hate of Rachael was palpable. In fact, in other reviews I’ve seen, most are calling Rachael the most unlikable character, which blows my mind. Did they SEE the others? If BJJ was trying to get the audience to realize for themselves how the family should be refusing to profit off of black suffering again, and if he similarly wanted the audience to identify on their own that the anti-Semitism of the characters was wrong, it did not work.
I was truly disturbed for most of this play, and not in the good way that drama should disturb your comfort. I was mostly unsettled by the people around me, who seemed to be getting a way different message from the play than I was, one that was super troubling especially in today’s very racist times. And then I was troubled that maybe they were getting exactly what was intended after all, and that I maybe expected equality that wasn’t there.
The best parts were Isabella Pappas’s performance as Rachael’s young daughter, since she is an astoundingly natural performer, and at the end when Bo and Franz awkwardly say goodbye and then don’t know what to do so they shake hands, and immediately in my head I heard Chris Farley’s Tommy Boy say “Brothers don’t shake hands! Brothers hug!!!” and laughed hysterically.
INFORMATION
Appropriate plays the Donmar Warehouse in London until October 5.
The first act is only 50 minutes so the second act is way too long, about an hour and a quarter.
You’ve already heard how forked up our audience was and judging from my entire theatre-going experience in London, it was not a fluke. But what’s more, five phones went off during the final scenes.
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We Return to Live Theatre! ‘Adventures with the Painted People’ at Pitlochry Festival Theatre
PEOPLE! Can you believe it? For the first time since March 14, 2020, when we saw Uncle Vanya in the West End and the guy behind me coughed a bunch and we realized ‘oh this is bad’ (the spectre of disease, not the play; the play was incredible) (and then I had covid – was it from him? we’ll never know (just kidding I know it was you asshole)), we were back at a LIVE FORKING SHOW in person in a theatre! Well not ‘in’ – our first show back wisely took place in an outdoor amphitheatre; we’re not crazy! Gimme that wind if I’m around other people! But wow, can you imagine how excited I am? I LOVE THE THEE UH TUHHH.
I wonder if the excitement of being back would have made me enjoy even a bad play, but we will never know because Official Return Show was quite an impressive little treat. ‘Adventures with the Painted People’, by David Greig, is a four-hander (you remember how I changed the terms to make them accurate?) that tells of a Roman officer named Lucius who gets kidnapped by Picts. It’s 2000 years ago and Romans have taken over, killed all the good Pictish men, ruined everything as invaders do for native peoples. When a group of Pictish boys find the stray Roman by the water, they knock him out and bring him to their tribe’s witch, Eithne, to be a sacrifice, naturally.
For someone being tied up in a witch’s ‘house of the dead’ which is really a cave of the dead which is much worse, Lucius never seems too angry or upset. Nicholas Karimi’s portrayal is really likeable, and you’re like aw I hope he doesn’t get sacrificed. He writes insubstantial poetry, but you can tell he feels more dreamy than the rigidity of a Roman officer’s life would normally allow. And that makes for a good pairing with Kirsty Stuart’s Eithne, the Pictish version of a manic pixie dream girl if ever there was one. (Manic pictish dream girl OH MY GOD.) She’s full of energy and conversations with spirits and flowery language, compared to the Roman’s straight lines. And yet, as she tells her captive, she wants his help to become Roman, so that she can implore the governor to work with her to implement peace instead of continued violence on her people. Maybe if he helps her, she won’t sacrifice him. Also if there’s a good pig she won’t need to.
In this early-AD Odd Couple, Eithne, witch of the salmon people who only tell stories by fire pit, learns how to read and write, learns about world history, learns about Roman life and laws. Lucius learns about the Pictish people, those that his mission has been to quash, and decides to write about this woman and her life. They both warm to each other. Over the weeks they study together in this cave, they become friends, and then they start to fall in love, obvs.
A love story between these two stark contrasts – one of straight lines, one of nature and spirits; one of the invaders vs. one of the oppressed natives – could easily have been as trite and schmaltzy (and annoying) as other attempts at heartfelt stories between colonizer and victim usually are. Although I feared that the final scene would be a bit like the U.S.-only ending of the 2005 Pride & Prejudice – which is superior, but too romantic for Brits apparently – this play managed to avoid all potential traps due to its strong writing delivering on a well-formed idea of what it wanted to accomplish. It did so with humor, great performances, and solid direction from Elizabeth Newman. I really enjoyed the set design and staging (I can’t find if Lizzie or someone else is responsible for the design), especially the circle of fire (erma erma) and the gorgeously done mosaic reveal (LOVED). The only thing I didn’t enjoy was that the little fire pit onstage blew all its smoke right in my face for a good hour as it died out, like no matter what the wind brought it right into my face, the face of the person in that audience who tolerates smoke the worst. My eyes are still burning two days later (they are like pumice, it’s not great). But that’s just me I’m weird. (See seating info below.)
Between the otherwise fresh air in Pitlochry and the lack of a stranger sitting right next to me (keep this up forever, maybe?), this returnship was about as nice as I could have hoped. Sure I got so nauseous on the winding Napoli-coastline-style drive that we had to stop so I could [redacted], but still, what a night. I highly recommend this show.
INFORMATION
The outdoor amphitheatre is up a windy hill, and although the main building and parking lot is a construction zone at present, the climb up and the amphi’s setting is beyond gorgeous. I need to talk to whoever is in charge of their gardening because um I need your help. Although the setting is lovely, the walk may be difficult for those who are less ambulatory.
Because the main building’s under construction and the shows are happening in this relatively small outdoor area at the top of a freaking hill, that means the toilets are unavailable. There is a portapotty up on the hill – one, for everyone. Luckily it never got too crowded (do Scottish people not pee??) but I was less than thrilled about having to use a porto three times (three is the bare minimum for me at the theatre, what fun I have). It was clean and whatever but I dreamt longingly of the endless immaculate newly refurbished stalls of Broadway’s Lyric Theatre, oh those were the days. Oh there are two bar setups up there as well. Nothing more UK than two spacious bar setups with like four staff members, but one toilet.
You have to wear masks everywhere except when you are seated, which seems a bit nonsensical since that’s when you are closest to other people and not walking around an incredibly spacious garden setting. That should really be rethought. Groups are sat so there’s a good few feet between them on each row, but it doesn’t stagger from row to row, meaning you have someone right behind and right in front of you. I guess that’s smarter than being surrounded on all diagonals? but because of it I wish they didn’t actively tell people they could take their masks off once seated.
The seating is open plan; an usher will seat you as you arrive. They sat us on the far aisle from where you enter, second row, so don’t sit there if you hate smoke. Although that was probably a unique occurrence from the universe just to fork with me so you’ll be fine.
‘Adventures of the Painted People’ plays at the Pitlochry Festival Theatre (in Perthshire, the most beautiful part of Scotland), until July 4, when I assume the closing performance will be marked with nonstop fireworks from your shitty neighbors. Just kidding, not in Scotland baby!
A Day in the Death of Joe Egg at Trafalgar Studios: Faaaaak.
It’s Theatre Thursday! Today’s show is A Day in the Death of Joe Egg, which opened at Trafalgar Studios in London last night.
It’s a shame that Trafalgar Studios and the Old Vic haven’t teamed up and then joined with anti-population environmentalists to present a special double bill of Lungs and A Day in the Death of Joe Egg. The former, coming to the Old Vic this month, presents the story of a modern-day couple deliberating the ethical implication of having kids when the world is burning down. (So, me and all my friends. So much for theatre as escapism.) Joe Egg is the Part 2 of Terrible Things to Worry About: what happens if you decide to have kids and they aren’t born healthy, every parent’s worst fear. Joe Egg, the 1967 play by Peter Nichols – who died two weeks before previews of this production started, confirming the whole ‘this is the darkest timeline’ vibe (RIP (ok that makes me sound very cold but he was 92 so like really well done, Peter, amazing life)) – concerns a couple whose 15-year-old daughter Josephine was born, in the words of one of their many shitty doctors, a ‘wegetable’.
It’s touted as a dark comedy, Joe Egg is, by people who have sick sense of humor, I guess, or by people who haven’t yet seen this heavy, depressing production. The ‘depressing’ I think is unavoidable in a play about the strain a disabled child has on a couple’s marriage, but the ‘heavy’ is due to this production and director (Simon Evans) not yet nailing the pacing. While the first act is somewhat slow, it’s compelling due to the strength of the interplay between the couple. When more actors show up in Act II, actors who have less command of their purpose and the tone they should be going for, the play loses some of its power.
And that command the first act has is commendable, considering having characters explain things directly to the audience is my least favorite theatre format (but at least this one does it better than the overrated Lehman Trilogy). Claire Skinner and Toby Stephens, as the couple Sheila and Brian, completely made me forget that they were actors, I was so invested in their struggles, so upset by their situation, so angered at the doctors’ screw-ups they recounted. It was heartbreaking to watch Sheila struggle with remnants of unmerited guilt, thinking that any part of it could be her fault. (And a great reminder not to have a home birth unless you have incredibly strong people present who would advocate for you.) If the show remained a two-hander, I think it would have been better off. (Sorry to husbo, who hates the phrase two-hander and for dern good reason — it should be four-hander, if you think about it, unless both actors are missing limbs.)
But the best thing to come from this show is the casting of Storme Toolis (WHAT A NAME) as Josephine. Toolis has cerebral palsy, and – if you can believe it – is the first disabled (I’m sorry if I’m using terrible language; please tell me if there are terms I should be using instead but this is what I’ve seen in other pubs) actor to EVER play the title role on the West End. This means they’ve had able-bodied actors drool and have their heads hanging off the side of their wheelchair and mutter some gibberish, pretending to be disabled, which seems…gross. And this important casting is largely due to Toolis’s own work as an activist for disabled actors, as she has vocally campaigned for the somehow revolutionary idea that disabled parts should be played by disabled actors.
And likewise, the play feels important, but in a manner where it’s hard to grasp what it’s trying to say besides the last word in my headline. It’s just…so f-ing sad for everyone involved. (Well not for Pam and Freddie (the Act II interlopers); those jackwagons can go eat a bag o’ dicks.) Aside from a few funny lines, I’m not sure how it could be described as a comedy. It’s super depressing. There are several points where you fully believe Josephine has died. And when the biggest questions raised by the drama are whether her father could go through with causing her death, and what that kind of mindset could do to his marriage – and what this situation in general has done to it – I don’t know what’s supposed to be funny. It’s just really, really sad. Provocative and worth this dramatic treatment, but sad.
INFORMATION
Honestly considering the age range (old to very old) it was a good audience.
The theatre needs a huge redo, though. Trafalgar Studios might be the worst theatre in London. Whoever designed the toilets should be tried at The Hague. You can’t get to the stalls if someone is washing their hands, there’s just no room. And in the classic London bathroom tradition, you can’t open the stall door to leave the stall unless you pretty much stand in the toilet. HOW DID SOMEONE GET PAID TO DESIGN THIS?
In the theatre itself it’s no picnic either. The seats don’t have armrests, so if you are sitting next to a stranger or two, you spend the entire show trying to shrink your shoulder width so that you aren’t pressing into each other. NOT VERY FUN.
This show also joins in on my least favorite trend of London theatre – having characters smoke. There’s a lot of herbal cigarette use, which is warned about yes, but that doesn’t mean it’s justified. I’ve seen at least two dozen shows in the past year with characters smoking onstage, and it has never once added anything to the production, except carcinogens for audience members and cast alike. STOP DOING THIS. I don’t understand how it’s still legal.
One thing that is not warned about – there is a toy gun that looks very real, and at one point an actor points and shoots it into the audience, so if that is the sort of thing that bothers you/if you are American, be warned.
The show is 2 hours 30 minutes, with the first act running 1 hour and the second act longer (which is usually a sign that the second act should have been trimmed).
1 Comment
They sound like Trump supporters!
Funny that this blog is about racism because today at synagogue for Rosh Hashanah, our Rabbi was going to give a sermon about the movie Yesterday, posing the question “what if you woke up and there wasn’t Judaism?’ Or He was bringing back his Hamilton service which is having its Philly run.. cause more people would have seen it. But, he felt he had to go with “anti-semitism” and rightly so.
WHAT A WORLD
Great blog! ❤️