Video killed the radio star and Netflix killed the movie theater. America’s largest movie theater chain AMC announced this week that there is a strong possibility that it would not survive this pandemic. Our local AMC is now an octogenarian and as such, would seem ripe to succumb to COVID-19. Over the years, it has striven to remain au currant. Originally it was only a one screen show, by the time that we moved to Saint Louis, it had broaden its venue to two. Later it made that seven. Most recently, it has redecorated itself as your living room, now with wall-to-wall lay-z-boy seating. It even added a bar and in-seat wait service. We are riding out our quarantine, while sampling multiple streaming services. I can’t remember when was the last time that I went to the Esquire. It has been more than a year. Meanwhile, in that same timeframe, I have attended dozens of live performances, many of them at the Fabulous Fox Theater, which started its life as a movie theater. Video killed the radio star and Netflix killed the Esquire.
We finished out the week, with another visit to the theater. This time it was at the Rep. The night’s vehicle was a light hearted farce, The Mystery of Irma Vep. This play is performed by only two actors, who between them play eight characters, with dozens of costume changes. This play is a satire of melodrama, farce and penny dreadful genres. It is loosely based upon a 1915 movie, Les Vampires. Irma Vep’s name is an anagram of vampire.
Here is the Wiki synopsis of the play:
Mandacrest Estate is the home of Lord Edgar, an Egyptologist, and Lady Enid. Lady Enid is Lord Edgar’s second wife, though he has yet to recover entirely from the passing of his first wife, Irma Vep. The house staff, a maid named Jane Twisden and a swineherd named Underwood, have their own opinions of Lady Enid. Enid is attacked by a vampire, and Edgar seeks answers in an Egyptian tomb, briefly resurrecting the mummy of an Egyptian princess. Returning home with the sarcophagus, Edgar prepares to hunt down the werewolf he blames for the death of his son and first wife. Meanwhile, Enid discovers Irma locked away, supposedly to coax out the location of precious jewels from her. Wresting the keys to Irma’s cell from Jane, Enid frees Irma only to discover the prisoner is, in fact, Jane herself, actually a vampire, and the killer of Irma as well as her and Edgar’s son. Underwood, now a werewolf, kills Jane, only to be shot dead by Edgar. In the end, Enid prevents Edgar from writing about his experiences in Egypt, revealing she was the princess herself, the whole thing an elaborate sham by her father to discredit Edgar. They reconcile.
Before the show, we had dinner at our new favorite restaurant in Webster, Frisco. Anne had their roasted chicken and I had the walleye special. Both of which were very good. This show concludes our theatrical outings for a while.
Once not long ago, a group of musicians came to Israel from Egypt. You probably didn’t hear about it. It wasn’t very important.
The Alexandria Ceremonial Police Orchestra lands in Tel Aviv to perform a concert at the Arab cultural center in the city of Petah Tikvah, but unfortunately, a bus station ticket-taker mistakes the band member’s pronunciation of Petah Tikvah for Bet Hativka, and sells him tickets to that desolate locale instead.
Stick a pin in a map of the desert.
Build a road to the middle of the desert.
Pour cement on this spot in the desert.
That’s Bet Hatikva.
The band members realize their mistake, after arriving in Bet Hatikva, but the next bus does not arrive until tomorrow. In their powder blue uniforms, the musicians look like refugees from a Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band fan convention. With no place to go and no hotel in town, the people of Bet Hatikva take in the band for the night. Over the course of one night the band and the townspeople interact, come to learn about each other and for some, fall in love.
The Fox’s Broadway musical series is chock-a-block full of extravaganzas. With amped music that blares and flashing lights that blind, these other shows assail the senses. All of their sound and fury is meant to distract one from the tired sameness of these revivals and revues that have dominated this series’ offerings. The quiet novelty presented in The Band’s Visit runs counterpoint to this trend.
In 2017, The Band’s Visit took Broadway by storm, when after winning ten Tony Awards, it became one of only four musicals in all of Broadway history to win the unofficial “Big Six” Tony Awards, which include Best Musical, Best Book, Best Score, Best Actor, Best Actress, and Best Direction.
Mojada is the Spanish word for the derogatory term wetback. A word used in English to denigrate undocumented immigrants from Mexico. Before this connotation was coined, the word originally meant wetting or soaking. Medea is a Greek tragedy by Euripides. In his play, Medea, wife of Jason of the Argonauts fame, helps him steal the golden fleece, the pair then steal away. She is later betrayed by him, leading her to exact revenge.
Mojada: A Medea in Los Angeles is a modern retelling of the Euripides play, set in the City of Angels. Medea is a shy seamstress and Jason is an enterprising go-getter. Jason embraces his new life in America, while Medea hates it, but cannot go home. Acán, their son, follows his father’s lead towards Americanization. Medea misses her home and cannot forget the traumas of their journey north.
Jason is seduced by his boss, Armida, an LA developer, who had not gotten the #MeToo message. She first steals Jason and then Acán. She then confronts Medea, and threatens her with eviction from her house. Pleading, Medea wins a one day reprieve. She uses that day to make Armida a dress that she had once requested. It is a magical dress. A dress once worn, transforms itself into a snake that kills Armida. Then still in a rage, Medea kills her only son with a machete.
This is a grisly end for Mojada, which is often comical and light, but that’s Greek tragedy for you. You get the same result as with a Shakespearian tragedy, but in fewer acts, where everybody dies in the fifth act. Greek tragedy is a source for several of playwright Luis Alfaro’s works. Alfaro has even reworked this play, when restaging it in other cities. At ninety minutes and one act, it is a short play. Some of the dialog was in Spanish, making some plot points difficult to understand, but also adding to the play’s authenticity.
It is in this concept of authenticity that Mojada seems to have differentiated itself from another popular telling of the modern Mexican immigrant story, as told in the novel American Dirt by Jeanine Cummins. Much of the criticism of Cummins and her book originates with the fact that she is not Mexican. She is an Anglo. Charges of cultural appropriation have been leveled against her. This smacks of racism or maybe reverse racism, but it is also on a slippery slope. Where do you cross the line when telling someone else’s story? This question is especially pertinent when your retelling comes from a publishing pinnacle. There is very little room at the top. One person’s story can supplant another’s.
We attended The Thanksgiving Play, written by Native American playwright Larissa FastHorse and it is a comic joy. It deliciously skewers liberal white political correctness. Four white actors flounder in their attempt to produce an unbiased retelling of Thanksgiving for the local elementary school, when they discover that their lodestone Native American actress is also white. Alicia had been playing, if unintentionally, in red face. From LA, she is good at ethnic and playin’.
Co-producers of this play-within-a-play are Logan and Caden. Director/actor Logan is hoping to overcome her past elementary school production’s failures, The Iceman Cometh and Titus Andronicus and the 300 parental petition signers that those productions spawned. Actor, partner, busker and guy not a vagrant, because he also has a day job, Caden, is well paired with Logan. In celebration for getting this gig, Caden gives Logan the perfect gift, a water-bottle, made of recycled glass, from the broken windows, of the local projects. Rounding out the cast as actor, writer and local teacher is Jaxton. He is kind of the odd man out in this production. All he wants is to hear his written words spoken by actors old enough to read three-syllable words. In this, he speaks to me as if the authoress.
This play was performed in the Rep’s basement black box Studio Theater, which has been newly dedicated to long time Rep director, Steven Wolff. We took our seats and awaited the performance, all the while a medley of Thanksgiving themed children’s songs played over the school’s PA. One of them, Five Little Turkeys, was echoed in the play, in a rap sendup, Four Little Turkeys. It should have been five, but the school’s budget could only afford four. After one, two, three, four little gunshots, four little turkeys were no more.
In the footsteps of older, more famous theatrical spoofs, such as The Producers, the comedy of The Thanksgiving Play holds up best when it has a melody to accomanpany it. The title alone of one of the previous FastHorse productions alludes to this, Teaching Disco Square Dancing to Our Elders. The best musical interlude in the play is a duet, between the two actresses. One dressed as a Native and the other as a Pilgrim. It is a medley of patriotic American standards that are only slightly tweaked for this performance, “This land is my land. This land was my land. This land is for me, not you.”