The Wedding Singer & London Theatre’s Jewish Problemby Randi / February 21, 2020With all the theatre we see (it’s a lot), there are only a few times when all we can say to each other at the end of a show is ‘well, shit.’ But that’s exactly what we said after the new production of The Rage of Narcissus by Sergio Blanco, a thrilling, frightening, too gory, captivating performance that’s powerful in its elusiveness and its vague metaphors but also will leave you thinking wait…what? and HOW? The dreamy abstractions were somehow effective in making us feel what we were supposed to feel (horrified?) while simultaneously being unclear in what exactly they were and why. The show is a hazy whirlwind that mixes reality and fantasy and fiction and biography into a cautionary tale of some sort. However, what it’s cautioning against is unclear, partly in the good artsy way and partly in a bit of an unsatisfying way.
The Rage of Narcissus tells the story of how Sam Crane, the adept actor, came to play Sergio Blanco, the writer, but a character version of Sergio in this not-all-true (I mean obvs) autobiographical-but-fictionalized account of his time at an academic conference in Ljubljana, which is a horribly fun word to try to type accurately. It’s an extremely meta show, with Sam-the-actor-but-also-a-characterized-version-of-himself playing Sergio-the-writer-but-fictionalized and repeatedly breaking the fourth wall to tell us the ‘truth’ about the story’s events outside how he’s presenting it that there are really no remnants of a fourth wall to be found once the show begins. The construction of this production, with its great use of video and lighting, is one of the most distinguishing aspects of it, intriguing and mind-bending and ensuring that what’s happening onstage is never boring, often super funny, and always interesting.
And while clearly, in a show of this title (it’s a good title, as we’re told in the meta discussion of how Sam and Sergio came to land on it), you’d assume it’s about the pitfalls of narcissistic tendencies, they didn’t add up to enough to demand the action that occurs. That vagueness of what the what and huh why is fun for the artistic experience, but not so fun to wrap your head around afterwards. In a show that ostensibly deals with narcissism, vanity, ego, selfishness, something along those lines, the punishment for these traits is neither justified nor doled out to the representation of those traits. That would be the character Igor, the clear narcissist in the story, though he’s not the victim of it. Is he even real? (What’s GOING ON.) To punish the more obvious narcissist may be too easy, sure, and it is interesting to reflect on how Sam’s Sergio and Sam himself showed flickers of the ego-driven behaviors to be warned against, but it feels like a bit of a stretch to rely on that for the result and/or whatever message we’re to take from it. There are also the jabs at the selfishness of our society at large, represented by the few and far between but still jarring interjections about genuine global tragedies, which seemed too fragmentary to be meaningful.
And so the representation of the punishment just seems wrong, and disturbing, and disturbance just for its own sake and not for any good reason isn’t good enough. The particular scene where we find out what actually happened in Sergio’s hotel room in excruciating detail is unnecessarily gory. It added nothing and risked cheapening the work from being a sophisticated thriller to being akin to a low-grade snuff film.
Aside from that part (and the fact that if you had to drink every time you heard the line “and then we began to f*&k”, you would die from alcohol poisoning), it was still an enjoyably riveting show, with Crane giving a pretty fantastic performance. This show raises a bunch of interesting questions, throwing threads of ideas into the ether, although not fully holding on to one. I appreciate when good art is more about emotions than facts, but this started to veer a little too far into “don’t think about it too hard, too too hard” territory for me. However, it was never boring, and it’s very provocative, which is a great accomplishment for new weird theatre.
INFORMATION
The one act show is about 100 minutes (not the 90 billed). The lobby and bar were so packed I had trouble leaving the building, which isn’t a great feeling. Seats are unreserved so get there early for an aisle, but there are no bad seats. Bathrooms are gender neutral with about 3-5 stalls/cubicles each, downstairs in the bar area.
The show runs at the Pleasance Theatre (near Caledonian Road station) until March 8.
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Fiddler: A Miracle of Miracles, A Must-See Documentary for Theatre-Lovers
It’s Theatre Thursday! Today we are talking about a theatre documentary film that will be in select theatres tomorrow, August 23.
Few musicals have the staying power and continued resonance of Fiddler on the Roof, the 1964 musical about Tevye the poor milkman, his wife Golde, their five daughters, and their struggles as Jews in their tiny village of Anatevka at the turn of the century. After all these years, it’s hard to imagine a world without this miraculous piece of theatre, and the new documentary Fiddler: A Miracle of Miracles, from director Max Lewkowicz, shows us how fortunate we are that all the pieces came together as they did. The amount of jaw-dropping names that appear throughout the doc exuding praise over this classic musical is endlessly entertaining. Featuring interviews with composers Sheldon Harnick and Jerry Bock, book writer Joseph Stein, producer Hal Prince (to whom the film is dedicated; he died just a few weeks ago), and tons of actors, writers, experts on cultural studies, journalists, and family members of the creative team, this Fiddler does the unthinkable and makes the musical even more special.
Interspersing footage of various productions, the classic film version, and even footage of Aleichem’s silent films with interviews, the doc provides interesting historical context and testimony as to why it’s such a lasting show. Joel Grey, Lin-Manuel Miranda, Harvey Fierstein, Fran Leibovitz, Itzhak Perlman, and endless amazing historians and writers share worthy thoughts on what makes Fiddler still resonate.
Everyone today loves Fiddler, and for dern good reason, but it opened to surprisingly bad reviews. Variety even wrote that there were no memorable songs, a statement that is beyond ludicrous for a show without a single weak moment and a widely known and widely loved score (okay except for “Now I Have Everything”). But it took a lot of hard work to create the final masterpiece, as Harnick, Bock, Prince, the original actors, and their relatives and those of Jerome Robbins share. H&B got the idea to write a show inspired by Russian-Yiddish author Sholem Aleichem’s short stories, narrowing their idea down to the story of Tevye the milkman and his daughters in turn of the century czarist Russia. They faced a lot of obstacles in the early days from people who, rightly so, heard this idea and went, ‘are you crazy?’ Who would see a musical based on such a niche story that will likely be super depressing? But this genius team turned this depressing, niche story into one that’s as heartwarming as it is heartbreaking, and one of the most relatable pieces in the canon, since at any time in history, people have been oppressed. One of the best stories is when during intermission of a Japanese production, an actor asked if Americans actually enjoy the show since “it’s so Japanese.”
I could talk forever about how wonderful this documentary and Fiddler itself are, but Ima let you discover some things for yourself because I hope you are seeing it, if you are near a theatre playing it. However, I do want to share a few of my favorite discoveries with you.
A few things I learned from the Fiddler Documentary
The idiot defense attorney from My Cousin Vinny was Broadway’s original Motel the Tailor
Now look, I’m not reducing Austin Pendleton’s stellar theatre career in calling him the bad lawyer from MCV; I just never realized that that was him until I was watching this doc, okay? I wish I could have seen him in this role!
There’s a Sholem Aleichem statue in Kiev.
Oops.
I don’t think I love any move more than Danny Burstein’s Tevye Shimmy
If you read my review of the 2016 Broadway revival of Fiddler, then you know how I feel about Danny Burstein’s Tevye and, above all, Tevye’s Lil Shimmy. With a solid amount of footage from this production interspersed throughout, we get to see a few of his positively delightful shimmies and I couldn’t be happier. (I put a clip of what I’m talking about in my instagram stories today, and it will be saved in the 2019 Theatre highlights so you can enjoy the Burstein Shimmy FOREVER.)
Jerome Robbins and Zero Mostel were not BFF
Although an undeniable genius, Jerry Robbins was extremely difficult to work with, and Zero was not a fan. During Joe McCarthy’s (more like McCunther (“that cunther made a list???”)) Senate hearings for Trying To Find Commies and Destroy Careers, Robbins named names, like the one thing you were not supposed to do if you wanted to still be considered Not An Asshole. But as always, it’s not as simple as that. McCunther S. Prick and his cronies threatened to out Robbins as a gay man if he didn’t cooperate, and back then that would have been a serious problem. They say he always regretted it afterwards, which like of course, but it wasn’t exactly a black-and-white situation. He was still an asshole to actors and others on set though, and no amount of genius can excuse that away, but he was a g-d genius.
The original Tradition lyrics were hilarious
Luckily, H&B perfected everything before the show was frozen, but we saw an early CBS television appearance of theirs in which they sang a song to the tune of what would later become “Tradition”: “There’s noodles to be made, and chickens to be plucked, and liver to be chopped and challah to be baked.” It’s a good change, it’s a goood change.
Every character has a name – like every character
Despite my assumption that my ensemble role in high school was just ‘one of the village daughters’, she had a specific name. In the original rehearsals, Jerry Robbins named every ensemble character and treated them all as integral parts of this show. So there’s a good chance I was actually playing Anya or Rivka, to name two I saw when they showed his original sketches, which is prettay prettay cool.
Jerry Bock says ‘ambience’ so amazingly
Not really a thing just wanted to remember how cute it is for him.
Yiddish Fiddler includes the best line ever
Currently in New York there is a Joel-Grey directed production of Fiddler being performed entirely in Yiddish, and receiving critical acclaim. The doc shows a snippet of the recording session for its album, in which Steven Skybell sings the Yiddish version of “If I Were a Rich Man”. The subtitles show us that these lyrics include just the best thing ever to exclaim probably at any point in your life: “Jews, I laid an egg!”
Marc Chagall’s work inspired the title and thematic elements of Fiddler
You know the Chagall painting with the violinist in a purple coat floating between two rooftops? Well helloooo, that’s the fiddler on the roof! Chagall’s work inspired the creators in establishing that central thematic element of the difficulty of finding balance between tradition and progress in a changing world, balancing like a fiddler on the roof. The Fiddler in the movie version is even wearing a purple coat. After learning more about Chagall in the show The Flying Lovers of Vitebsk, I imagine Chagall would have loved this show and the homage it pays to the plight of Jews in Russia during this era.
There’s so much information and emotion jam-packed into this beautiful film and I want to rave about all of it (like, did you know The Temptations covered “Rich Man”? It’s so fun) but definitely go see for yourself. And if you have to wait longer until it comes to your town or for it to be available for purchase, spend that time listening to one of the many great cast recordings. Or better yet, go see a local production. Chances are you’re near one, whether a regional theatre or a middle school, because the most heartwarming, unbelievable fact shared in the film is that, since debuting in 1964, a production of Fiddler has been performed somewhere in the world every single day, a fact that proves just how incredible and indelible this musical’s mark is on the world.
Our Lady of Kibeho at Stratford East: Super Interesting Story, Super Uneven Tone
It’s Theatre Thursday! Today’s show is Our Lady of Kibeho, playing at London’s Stratford East theatre until Nov. 2, when I imagine the Virgin Mary will appear to burn it all down.
Like the Catholic Church doesn’t have enough bad PR going for it. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Our Lady of Kibeho, the 2014 play written by Katori Hall, was a hit job to make sensible people hate the church’s reps even more vehemently. Faaack, those are some assholes on that stage! If you can get past how absolutely awful 98% of the characters are, you may enjoy Kibeho as it tells the true story (I mean as true a story as people seeing visions of the Virgin Mary can be, no offense but what) of the girls at Kibeho college in Rwanda who saw said visions of the virgin in 1981. Mary showed them predictions of the coming Rwandan genocide, which is incredibly harrowing and infuriating that no one believed them and did anything to stop it, but then again what could they have done to stop it? (Also, query whether it was a self-fulfilling prophesy? Dark.)
In Kibeho, Alphonsine (a very winning Taz Munya), whose father I assume is named Alphonso because otherwise why, but also even if that’s the reason oof, has seizure-inducing visions of the Virgin Mary (you don’t know this but in my head I’m saying it ‘wirgin’ because I just watched a video of a German man speaking). Of course, nobody believes her, because organized religion is largely composed of unbelievably shitty people (see, e.g., 98% of churches in America; the aforementioned Catholic church; &c.). The Father and Sister and Bishop of the school yell at her, which is some BULLSHIRT. Your entire thang is based on just believing what you’re supposed to believe because you, well, just BELIEVE (see, e.g. The Book of Mormon for this sentence put to music) and instead of believing her or really even asking if the girl who keeps having seizures is okay, ffs, you yell at her and sic the meanest mean girls in school on her instead? WHY ARE PEOPLE. Ugh I was so, so angry for most of this show, wanting to sprint up to that stage and punch Sister Evangelique (suchhh a Pose house name!) and Marie-Claire in the face and the Bishop man in their mean faces.
Luckily (?), another girl, Anathalie (I honestly kept thinking they were saying ‘ah, Natalie’ every time) starts having the visions too. They still get bullied and no one else believes them and the other mean girls beat them? and the Sister Pose torments them? I do not get how any of these people can make a claim to be close to god but alas, that’s organized religion. Anyway, luckily (?) Marie-Claire, the Regina George of Rwanda but meaner, starts seeing the visions too and seizuring all about that beeyatch, so the Vatican comes a-calling.
Now, holy shit, truly holy shit, is the Vatican rep the worst man ever. Katori Hall is SAYING SOME SHIT with this muhfucka. He literally stabs the girls during their visions because if they were really having religious visions, they wouldn’t feel pain or whatever. SURE SEEMS LEGIT. Must he, MUST he stab them in the chest for this test? Not the arm? Even the leg? But the chest? As exasperating as that question is (my heart was pounding louder than the show), I have another one for you – what kind of monsters tasked with being in charge of these girls (the sister, the father, the bishop, inter alia assorted fuckers) allows this to happen? UGH THIS IS HOW WE GOT HERE.
Anyway, aside from the fury raging like flames, flames, flames, on the side of my face, this show is pretty interesting. There are scenes, especially the ends of each act, where I was completely swept up in the onstage action, completely oblivious to my loud heart and the loud people around me. There are moments of brilliance, especially among the girls. However, the adults, especially the men, were uniformly weak, but more importantly oddly directed by James Dacre. Instead of sticking to what made sense for their characters (sure they can be total assholes, that’s normal in all plays, but make it make sense in the show), so many lines were delivered as cheap laugh grabs, when it made no sense for the story or the character. Sure, the audience loved it – audience love cheap laugh grabs; they do work – but it took me out of the story and made me into my favorite gif, the one of the little blonde toddler making a ‘what the hell?’ face. I was mimicking that amazing toddler for way too much of this show, at so many confusing, bizarre line deliveries, when it could have otherwise been pretty strong and cohesive, and of course unsettling and disturbing since we know what came next.
INFORMATION
The show is playing at Stratford East, east of London by the Olympic Park, until November 2. There are 4 stalls in the ladies toilet. The stalls are single rows (no center aisle) so if you get claustro get lower-numbered seats (those are nearer the side by the exit. I had an aisle seat of course but on the wrong side, oops).
