An Appeal for the Return of the Sitting Ovation

                Although it’s been sort of on my mind for some time now, I was inspired to further explore this recently.  I’ve even been audacious enough to act on it.  The topic?  Standing ovations.  I was moved by Ben Brantley’s recent article for the New York Times on the matter.   While I don’t necessarily agree with everything he says (I think I liked Newsies way more than he did), I think he makes an excellent point.  Standing ovations have become an epidemic in the theater, and it’s not a good thing.  The ridiculous prevalence of the standing ovation has stripped it of its merit.  It hardly means anything anymore to give or receive a standing ovation.  I’m trying to see if we can do something about that – starting with me.

I don’t see as many Broadway shows as I’d  like (face it: I’d like to see them all), but I’d say I see significantly more on Broadway than the average American.  Also, because of work I do here, I see almost every show done in the Triangle on the local and regional level, as well as all the big national tours.  And I see a lot of standing ovations.

                One incident which really sticks out in my mind is when I saw Clybourne Park on Broadway.  I enjoyed the show, but it wasn’t my favorite.  I was all set to politely applaud, give a “whoop” for the actor I really liked, and be on my way.  However, I was sitting practically among a large group of high school students from southern Florida – all musical theater kids.  The very second that the curtain call started, every last one of them was on their feet, even the guy who fell asleep during act 1.  They gave a standing ovation like that’s what they thought they were supposed to do.  Maybe that is, actually, what they thought they were supposed to do.  But, really, was the kid who fell asleep for several pivotal scenes really moved that much by the production?  Probably not.

                Maybe that incident has a lot to do with what Ben Brantley was saying about out-of-town crowds versus New York crowds.  I get what he’s saying, but I think for the purposes of the rest of America, that can probably be expanded to people who see live theater every once and a while versus those who make a regular habit of it.  I don’t want it to seem like I’m looking down on the once-in-a-whilers; every theater patron is a wonderful asset to the community.  But there’s a difference.  Like people who go to every home baseball game of a season are, in many ways, different sorts of fans than those who go to one or two.

                I had been, up until now, one of those people at the theater who remained in my seat, eventually looked around at everyone standing, and begrudgingly stood, mostly so I could see the end of the curtain call.  But now, I’m taking a stand.  Well, actually, I’m taking a seat.  I’m the kind of girl who likes to go with the flow, so it’s been an interesting experience so far.

                I went to see the national tour of West Side Story on official business.  I brought a friend who hasn’t seen much live theater lately.  She agreed with me that the standing ovation was silly.  We sat.  We were the only ones, but it actually didn’t feel awkward.  I think I made my point.  I applauded and even cheered, because the production was good.  But, if anyone asks, I’m saving my standing ovation for the top 1%.  That’s what I’ve decided.

                I went to a local theater production of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, also on official business.  Everyone stood.  I was gracious, polite, and seated.  Same goes for a regional production of Boeing Boeing I saw this week to review.  I loved the show.  So did everyone else there.  They stood.  I applauded from my seat.

                So far, there hasn’t been any fallout.  No one has approached me to ask me why I didn’t stand or why I didn’t like the performance.  I haven’t had to explain to anyone that I’m saving it for the top 1%.  When the curtain call is over, we all just go on with our lives.  Additionally, many of the shows I see are in a professional capacity.  I receive a comp ticket to review the show (in case you’re wondering, I review those shows elsewhere – this blog is reserved for shows I see in my free time).  Would it be professional for me to stand?  I don’t know.  I’m not quite sure where the line is.

                So, for now, I’m sitting.  I encourage you to join me in my sit-ins, if you will.  Let’s all, as a whole, give a standing ovation back its weight so that it truly means something to receive one.  Thoughts?

Tribes - Moving, Delicate, and Dynamic Theater

                I finished out my whirlwind trip to NYC with my fifth show in two days down in the Village at the Barrow Street Theatre.  Before the show, I took the subway down to Christopher Street, wandered around, got a snack at Amy’s Bread, and had a very pleasant time exploring the neighborhood.  Even though I love to go to New York as often as possible, and so desperately want to be a “local,” let’s face it – I’m a tourist.  I’m a girl who travels up from North Carolina to be amazed by everything New York has to offer.  This was my first time spending quality time wandering around the Village.  I had been to the Lortel Theatre to see Carrie, but I didn’t get to do a whole lot of exploring.  I love the neighborhood.  It’s eclectic and fun.

                The Barrow Street Theatre is quite unassuming – it’s in a building called Greenwich House.  Walking by, you’d never know it’s a theater.  I literally had to find the “27” on the building before I was certain that I was in the right place.

                The performance space itself is not big (it is, after all, an Off-Broadway house), but they do so much with it.  There were seats on all four sides of the square performance space in the middle.  The space was a living room/dining area with a gorgeously made “skylight.”

                Tribes tell the story of Billy, a young Deaf man, raised in a hearing family – a family which made no effort to understand that there is such a thing as Deaf culture, and did not teach him sign or anything like that.  He speaks well, and is a skilled lip-reader.  He meets a woman named Sylvia, who comes from a Deaf family, who introduces him to the Deaf world, but who herself is struggling with the fact that she is losing her hearing.

                First of all, I need to get one thing off my chest – I think I’m in love with Russell Harvard, who plays Billy.  Not only is the man an incredibly talented actor who took on a very tough role with Billy, but he’s also extremely easy on the eyes.  Harvard, a deaf actor who has made a name for himself with some key film roles, took on some extremely challenging stuff with Tribes.  He speaks for most of the show, but he also has to make mistakes and such when he speaks, which is challenging.  I saw a funny interview he did in which he reminded the audience to be kind, because he doesn’t actually know what a British accent sounds like.  I think he did a great job, and the folks I was sitting with and I agreed that the accent thing was totally irrelevant.  He did an impeccable job, as did the rest of the stellar ensemble cast.

                I was so compelled by this well-told (Drama Desk-winning) story.  It really presented the Deaf world as populated by real people with their own gifts and shortcomings.  Especially having seen Clybourne Park the day before, which showed such a one-dimensional portrayal of a deaf person, I was moved by how real these characters were.  Billy is desperate to find a place he belongs in the world, but also needs to lash out about who he is and the people he comes from.  Sylvia, his love interest and guide into the Deaf world, is such a dynamic and complex character, as she comes from a world which won’t let her mourn the fact that she’s losing her hearing.  The two meet in such a wonderful way that tells such a fantastic story.  Nina Raines (the playwright) never once presents Deafness as a handicap, but she does acknowledge its challenges.  People who are culturally Deaf do not generally view their Deafness as a handicap, but rather as a source of cultural pride.  I only know this from a nominal amount of research that I’ve done, but it’s clear that Raines knows her stuff.  She’s able to tackle big issues in such a delicate yet head-on way.

                I especially enjoyed the scenes of interaction between Billy and his brother.  His brother is battling his own demons, and Billy has been like his anchor for some time.  Truth time: I cried a lot when they interacted.  I was just so moved.

                Along with the beautiful skylight, there were some other creative elements of the show which I really loved.  There was need for some subtitles when characters were only signing and not speaking.  The projections were done on unique surfaces – the side of the window, the mattress, etc., so that it seemed an organic part of that world.  It didn’t seem like “translations,” but just felt like their words popping up.

                I met some really cool people in the audience, as well.  I sat with a couple from Los Angeles who have done a lot of work with a Deaf theater company out west.  We had an interesting chat.  I told them about how I teach American Sign Language to hearing primary students, and how I try my best to include as much about Deaf culture as possible.  We had some great chats, and at the end, we applauded in ASL together, which was pretty cool.

                I know that I make a lot of recommendations for shows, but I really, truly believe that Tribes is one of the best pieces of theater I’ve ever seen, and I think the Hearing world needs to see this play.

Arianda is a Goddess, and Other Musings on Venus in Fur

                So, I know that I’m hopelessly behind in all of this, so sorry to all 6 people who read this.  The end of the year stuff at school has been nuts, so I’ve barely had any time to write about the theater I saw in NYC over Memorial Day weekend.  But I couldn’t let it go any longer without discussing Venus in Fur!

                So, I’m a plan-ahead kind of gal, but I wanted to leave part of my whirlwind 2-day trip up to chance.  I left the Sunday matinee open, with plans to hit up TKTS and see what I could find there.  I got into the play express line, which was surprisingly long, and for the 45 minutes I was there (I got there before the booth opened), I debated what I was going to see.  I couldn’t decide between Venus in Fur and One Man, Two Guv’nors.  I actually asked one of the guys there handing out flyers, and he gave me good advice: see which one I could get a better seat for, and take that one.  He assured me that both shows were wonderful in their own way.  Well, the ticket-seller at TKTS was able to offer me a front-row seat to Venus in Fur, so I took it.

                The only problem?  It was 11 in the morning, and the show wasn’t until 3.  Luckily, I was in the center of the universe, so I took the subway to the Strand bookstore.  I browsed for quite some time, bought a new copy of How I Paid for College…, and wandered back to Union Square to take the subway back to Times Square.  I must have had an air of confidence about me, because that subway trip marked the first of several times that day that I would be asked directions for how to get somewhere on the subway.  One man asked me, “do you take this train often?”, and, not wanting to seem like a tourist, my response was, “not so often, no.”  How silly.

                The time to enter the theater finally rolled around, and I took my seat.  It turns out, I was sitting with some ladies I met earlier in the day in the TKTS line.  We had a lovely chat – one lady didn’t realize that some shows have performances on Sunday evening, and once she found this out, she began busily deciding which one she was going to see.  I guess my five-shows-in-two-days feat is an inspiring one.

                Venus in Fur is presented without an intermission (which was perfection), and the show is just marvelous.  It’s hilarious, deep, and true.  I still cannot get over how amazing Nina Arianda is.  The woman is a genius, plain and simple.  She brought the character of Vanda to life with so much depth and so much truth.  I was peeling with laughter, but also so intent on the arc of her character – how does she do it!?  No, really, I want to know.  I’m writing this after the Tony Awards, but up to the awards themselves, I kept telling people, “If there’s any justice in the world, Nina Arianda will win the Tony.”  I guess my faith in the world is restored.  Clearly I’m not the only one who recognized her genius.  The woman is a goddess.

                Nina’s not the only thing I loved about the show.  Clearly, Ives’ writing is phenomenal.  Hugh Dancy was a great partner for Nina.  I loved the stark set.  It had those little touches that made it real.  You know, like the faded spots on the bulletin board from when a paper is left there a long time, and coffee cups and packets of Equal next to the coffee pot.  My favorite was the sign that said “Your mother doesn’t work here, so please clean up after yourself.”  It’s those little touches that made it so real.

                Even though the show ends just as things are getting really juicy, I love what it does and where it goes in just over 90 minutes.  As the two characters are reading the script to the play-within-the-play, they go there.  Like, really there.  Like, there’s a dog collar involved.  They do things that I’m sure are not equity standard for an audition.  I love that they are so willing to let a piece of theater take them someplace so raw and emotional.  Clearly, they both have hang-ups to deal with – Vanda is either a stalker or clairvoyant, and Thomas is a kind of uptight guy who needs writing to be his release.  The interaction between the two is impeccable.

                I know I’m not giving you much time, but please go see Venus in Fur before it closes in a few days.  You won’t regret it, not one bit.

Unabashedly Gushing Over Peter and the Starcatcher

                I’m in love.  Truly, madly, deeply in love.  And I’m pretty sure the feeling is mutual.  The object of my affection?  Broadway’s Peter and the Starcatcher, of course!  I feel silly writing such a gushy post (hence the middle school journal overtones here), but I can’t think of anything bad to say about the show – it might actually be the best piece of theater I’ve ever seen.  Ever.

Photo from Broadway.com

                Actually, if I think really hard I could probably think of one negative thing to say.

                I got it.  My seat was in dead center in the front row of the mezzanine (there’s a gripe coming, I promise), and the seat was so close to the balcony edge that my feet were cramped.  But even that’s only because I’m 6 feet tall and I had already walked about 87 miles around Manhattan that day.  Normal-sized humans who take the subway to the theater won’t be able to find a single negative thing to say about Peter and the Starcatcher.

                I literally cannot remember the last time I felt so captivated by theater.  It’s like when kids who can’t sit still for ten seconds but when put in front of a computer can spend hours playing a video game.  I’m that ADD kid, and Peter is my video game.  Except it’s infinitely cooler than a video game.

                First of all, the acting is perfect.  Yes, I’m talking about Adam Chanler-Berat, Celia Keenan-Bolger, and Christian Borle, but I am also referring to the entire ensemble.  Every one of them is a genius.  Second, the design of the show is so lively, uplifting, and perfect in its simplicity.  At the very same time, it reminded me of when I would put on shows in my yard as a kid and made me wonder in awe at the way that simple things like ropes and ladders can truly become pirate ships and tropical islands.

                As you read this next part, please keep in mind that I have no personal stake in the merchandising department for the play.  Buy the annotated script.  Do it.  It includes wonderful insight into the show, yes, but my favorite part is the quippy and brilliant stage directions, like the perfectly penned “A Great Silence of Piratical Awfulness” (Act I. Scene 7. Line 7).  Genius, right?  Seriously, buy it.  But first you have to buy a ticket to the show, which is the best thing you’ll buy all year.