We saw Hamilton last night at the Fox. It was great! Everything that we had hoped for was realized. We loved the songs. We loved the rap. It was worth the wait, two years in our case. I was heartened to see all of the black and brown faces on stage portraying our all white founding fathers. It visualized a future for this country that fulfills every promise that has been made. We have crossed over and joined that select group who have seen Hamilton. I feel so elite now.
Nonsense and beauty have close connections. – E. M. Forster
Another day means another play. On Saturday, we attended the Ignite! reading of the new Scott C. Sickles play, “Nonsense and Beauty”. Here is it’s synopsis:
In 1930, the writer E.M. Forster met and fell in love with a policeman 23 years his junior. Their relationship, very risky for its time, evolved into a 40-year love triangle that was both turbulent and unique. Based on a true story, Nonsense and Beauty captures the wit and wisdom of one of the last century’s great writers.
We’ve been attending Ignite! since its beginning six years ago. Each year The Rep produces three of these readings, making for a total of eighteen so far. We have attended most of these performances. “Nonsense and Beauty” is by far and away the best written play of the lot and the most mature one too. By which I mean, for many of these readings, the script is being revised right up to the moment of presentation. This often results in a still rough around the edges product. This is a natural artifact of the play writing process and as such is excusable. But when such a finely tuned vehicle like “Nonsense and Beauty” comes along it puts the others to shame. Typically, The Rep chooses one of each Ignite! season’s offerings to produce as a play. I pray that they choose this one.
The character of Eddie Brock is that of an eel, who slithers into Washington, all ready to snatch up his next lucrative deal. Eddie is into junk, as in a junkyard, of which he is king. He owns 500 yards already, but now has his hungry eyes set upon claiming even more. Which is what brings him to our nation’s capital. The period is the late 1940s. The war is over and Eddie has cast his gaze across the Atlantic at the ruins of Europe and all of its scrap steel. He has already secured a senator in his pocket and with his aid all Eddie wants is for government to step aside and let him do what he does best in this world, make more money.
Following along in Eddie’s wake is first his shifty lawyer, who facilitates his dealings and Billie Dawn, Eddie’s platinum blonde showgirl-friend. Billie her baby doll voice and Jersey accent has become an impediment to Eddie’s ambitions. She lacks the social graces and intellectual acumen that Eddie needs, if she is going to circulate with him in capital high society. Enter a reporter, from the New Republic yet, who interviews Eddie. Eddie takes a shine to the reporter and enlists his help as a tutor for Billie.
The preceding paragraphs summarize the first act of “Born Yesterday”, the final play on the main stage at The Rep for this season. This comedy has enjoyed many showings over the years, in both theater and on the screen. After seeing this show, it is obvious that this particular revival is a reaction to Donald Trump.
The play’s titled is derived from the phrase, “I wasn’t born yesterday.” In its second act, Billie attains an awakening and Eddie learns to rue his wicked ways. Not the least because he and his crooked lawyer have signed over many of his junkyards into Billie’s name in a tax scam. Also, Billie and the reporter/tutor have naturally fallen in love together.
The show is anachronistic is many ways. The prices are for one. Eddie brags about the exorbitant cost of his Capital Hill penthouse ($250 per night), which seems ridiculously cheap by today’s standards, unless of course you happen to be the head of the EPA. More glaringly out of sync with modern sensibilities and the #MeToo era is Eddie’s rude and often harsh treatment of Billie. But one thing that “Born Yesterday” does get right is its depiction of the corruption and graft that powerful and entitled men still practice to this day.
Last night’s performance was near the end of this play’s run and the house was less than full. Leavening the crowd last night were many students, both from local high schools and foreign exchange students from Webster. Two exchange students were seated behind us and it was interesting listening to them at intermission and after the show. Together they were trying to puzzle out this now seventy years old political satire and what it means today.
Another day, another night, another play and this time the show was part of The Rep series, Ignite! Actually, more of a reading than a performance, this festival features new scripts out loud. Like the night before, this event was also in Grand Center, around the block from the Fox, at KWMU, the local NPR affiliate.
“Hurricane Colleen” was written by Tammy Ryan. Her previous work, “Molly’s Hammer”, was also an Ignite! reading, before graduating to The Rep stage. That play told the story of Molly Rush of the Ploughshares Eight and the events surrounding the 1980 attack on nuclear missile nose cones at the GE plant, in King of Prussia, PA. Since, we had attended both of those venues and with this evening that made us official Tammy Ryan groupies. After this reading, we spoke with Ms. Ryan. Anne was able to mention Carl Hiaasen, whose novels set in south Florida reminded us of Doyle, one of the characters in her current play.
Based upon Ryan’s own life experiences, “Hurricane Colleen” tells the story of two sisters meeting to bury a third. The setting is a beach house in Florida. Four equity actors comprised the cast and portray the two sisters, Maggie and Rosemary Lynch, Doyle, Maggie’s roommate and Ed, Rosemary’s husband. Ed and Rosemary are members of the 1%, while Maggie and Doyle are decidedly not. All of them though, each in their own way, are just barely scraping by. Colleen, the deceased sister, shares titular billing with an approaching hurricane. What could go wrong with a weekend at the beach?
The night of the day that we returned home from California, we had theater tickets at the Fabulous Fox. “The Color Purple” was the musical playing. This new show features a score of gospel and rhythm & blues numbers and differs significantly from the Spielberg movie. Its Spartan set features three floor to ceiling wooden panels that resemble the unpainted walls of some dilapidated shanty. Dozens of wooden chairs hang from these panels. The actors sometime take down one of these chairs that serve as the play’s only props.
Minimalist is an apt description of this show. Based on the Alice Walker novel, this musical was first produced on Broadway in 2005. This revival debuted in 2015. “The Color Purple” with its twin themes of racism and sexism resonates in the current political clime. This relatively quiet production served as a departure from the Fox’s usual loud and brassy fare and made a nice interlude.
Because of our vacation, I had to move our tickets for “The Color Purple”, to a later date. This wasn’t any problem, because our new seats were just as good as our regular ones. We won’t be traveling during the next show in this series. That is because the next show is “Hamilton”, which is all sold out. We have been planning this event for over two years now and have 15th row center seats. So, this is a big deal in Saint Louis and I am not throwing away my shot…
While not exactly a cave, the duplex of Brigid Blake and her boyfriend Rich fits the bill. It’s a ground floor/basement up-and-down, with one barred window that looks out on a cigarette littered alley. Still, it has an amazing amount of space for Manhattan. The fact that this Chinatown abode is in the flood zone only enhances its affordability. As an aside, its layout reminded us of Dan’s place.
That’s the place, the time is Thanksgiving. Once an occasion to appreciate God’s gifts, the holiday is presented here as a primordial feast. The foldout table is set, all that is lacking now is a human sacrifice, which will come soon enough. The Blake clan, all four of them (mother, father, sister and grandmother), descend upon NYC, à la the movie Pieces of April, which handles holiday melancholy with more warmth and tenderness than does this play. Rich and Brigid’s place is empty. Their belongings are still on a truck in Queens. That’s OK, the visiting Blakes unpack enough emotional baggage to fill the stage.
The Humans is funny, emotional, but also draining. By play’s end, I’d gladly cross the Blakes off from any dinner party invites. Unfortunately, even before the lights go out, the playwright had already written them off too. The Blakes are bankrupt, both emotionally and financially. It doesn’t help that boyfriend Rich is rich, a trust fund baby. Family dynamic soon devolve into a caricature of class warfare, as the 99% are eventually Ubered back to Scranton, PA.