November Attempts Satire; Serves One Term Only

By Kassia Lisinski

Cedar Rapids— November, written by David Mamet and directed by Jason Alberty, opened this past weekend at Theatre Cedar Rapids. November promises good old poking fun at the incompetence of those in political office, but leaves the audience less with laughter and more with a lingering sense of having been ever so subtly cheated (which perhaps earns the play props for its realistic portrayal of politics). Although there were shining moments, mainly on the part of the actors, the show fell victim to making too light of too serious issues, falling back on insta-humor stereotypes for laughs, and, in the end, failing to satisfyingly resolve the story.

The play runs in the Grandon Theater, in the lower level of TCR, where the lights shine over a replicated Oval Office, slowly dimming as radio-quotes of the presidents of yore are played over the speakers. Illumination returns to the raging of President Charles H.P. Smith, played by Nathan Nelson, upset over the low polls, ranting to his lawyer, Archer. Not only are the polls terrible, but the president is taking home no money, no sofa, and no "presidential library." This bit turned into a phone rant for the next 10 minutes that felt more like listening to a mediocre comedian's monologue than anything else. Not worth a full guffaw, but also not worth heckling. At least Nelson's delivery was well-done, with no verbal foibles and enough animation to salvage an otherwise yawn-worthy diatribe. However, it is here that the thin ice of racial humor begins to be trod, as the president threatens to return Nantucket Island, on which Barry is located, back to the Micmac. It's funny, because it's probably rightfully theirs, and everyone knows jokes about how Native Americans were and continue to be screwed out of everything ancestrally dear to them make for pure hilarity. 

After establishing the conflict of the soon-to-be ex-president's desire for money and his assured failure at securing another term, the audience is introduced to the "Turkey Guy," played by Terry Tesar, whose mission it is to ensure that the birds (two, in case one dies) sniff the president's hand, and are thus pardoned; and  Bernstein, the lesbian and oh-so-liberal speechwriter, called in on her sick day off for shoddy "off-the-cuff" remarks and potential status as traitor to the U.S. (she just adopted a baby from China). The president and his lawyer plan to extort the Turkey Guy, basing the legality of this on some questionable math that I think was supposed to be funny, and the conflict eventually results in the president making money to buy airtime, and a promise to ruin the turkey industry by pardoning ALL of the animals. He tasks Bernstein with writing a speech for this purpose, to declare that Thanksgiving is actually wrong, an instruction which she initially feels morally obligated to disobey. At the close of the second act, Berstein is left entreating the president to do the right thing, to use her speech to declare that Thanksgiving is wrong for the RIGHT reasons, and to pay for the service of a wonderful work of words by marrying her and her partner, live, on TV. 

The writing, the lines, were often over the top. Although it is entertaining and furthermore useful to bring to light the prejudices of public figures, every legitimate call-out was countered with something like "You survived 2000 years without a country, you'll be fine!", to a Jew, or reference to the the Micmac chief Dwight Grackle, played by Steve Worthington, as "Tonto". I'm also torn by the several references to the "piggy plane," which takes people to indefinite detainment, torture, and likely death. Am I supposed to sympathize with a president and cabinet who do this? Should it be funny to laugh about something like that, when Adnan Farhan Abdul Latif, who was never formally charged with a crime, just became the ninth inmate to die at Guantanamo? 

Although most of the show was carried by the actors with much of the writing relying on forced rehashing of the same jokes, there were some gems in the line, such as the unexpectedly profound, "In America there are no solutions. Only rearrangement of problems." The production had some nice touches, especially in terms of props: I especially enjoyed the Turkey Guy's Chinese stress balls and antibiotic spray, and the audience loved Bernstein's "Wedding Singer"-esque bridal outfit. However, all parties went enormously over the top in addressing the Micmac chief. He arrived on set in a primitive frenzy, a white guy wearing a headband, animal skins, feathers, plaid and wranglers, etc. He carried a blow gun that was "wrapped in the hair of 15 virgins." I'm honestly startled he didn't start war-dancing, whooping, hey-yaing and "how"-ing, or make any reference to scalping. In a marvelous display of irony, the director, writer, and costume designer all seemed to forget that a major part of the play's plot was based in the injustice of Thanksgiving as an imperialistic holiday celebrating the subjugation of the indigenous Americans (in Berstein's approximate words), and proceeded to portray a Native American that could better fit the current stereotypes only if he were to be swigging liquor and brandishing a tomahawk as he arrived on scene.

I was a little upset about the production: the unskillful skirting of political correctness, the lack of character growth, the unsatisfying ending. Although there were plenty of issues addressed, it was done so poorly and without the courage to take a real stand so much as to echo current popular opinion. Also, there were loose ends to be tied up, and it seemed like it would be a simple job to end with all the ends tucked in again. True, the conclusion that the plot seems to imply would be somewhat rote: a clueless dolt redeems himself by learning to listen to others, and putting aside his own selfish wants and needs. Yet as frustrating as that pedantic ending and moral lesson might be, especially when figured out early on, it is so much more annoying to be denied any real conclusion at all.

November brings some interesting questions to light; maybe those with a different sense of humor could better enjoy the antics of the show. The play runs through October 13; tickets are $17.50—20 ($15 student, $10 rush, as available).

Be First in Line for SPT's New Show, 1

by Kassia Lisinski

Cedar Rapids - I count myself lucky to have had the opportunity to experience SPT Theatre's first production of their newest season. This season is based on the theme of numbers and opens with the appropriately titled: 1. It's my first time back at an SPT production in a few years, and I've been itching to return since that first show, curious about the art and growth of a company which includes three of my former teachers. And well I waited, for it is a trauma of a unique and delightful sort to witness your one-time instructor dressed in a tight white hoodie, swimming goggles, and prosthetic tail, arms tucked under the spandex, making swimming motions as he imitates a sperm dropping pick-up lines for a sexy anthropomorphization of an unfertilized egg.

I loved the ridiculousness of this show, and I love CSPS for supporting it: for the venue itself—the old wood floors, the post-flood expansion of space, the ceiling tiled in dove-grey mandalas—and for the crowd, a delightful amalgam of cultured New Bo residents and enthusiasts, wine-drinkers, and bespectacled intellectuals. I always feel like this kind of crowd could use a little mess to it, and the raunchiness of SPT's humor provides. The sheer absurdity of subjects—a school of fish with one daring individual breaking the grapevine dance routine, the endearing guest Nicolette Coiner-Winn's rampant string of unexpected expletives on a Jeopardy spoof, the dating show complete with a neo-Nazi in search of his beloved fascism (broadcast on US news)—is mind-boggling in its originality and dedication to "no subject too odd to be awesomely produced." The show comes complete with a full and fantastic band, particularly guest Matt Brooks on soul-enthralling electric blues guitar and founders Gerard Estella's keys and Jane Pini's voice.

The energy was apparent as the audience seemed to anticipate the beginning even before the lights dimmed and the actors took their places. The show began with Akwi Nji giving a short definition of the many different meanings of the word "one," or "won," or even "wan," with a relevant quip for each delivered in a few lines by Mary Sullivan and guest Nicolette Coiner-Winn (potentially an overused ploy, but saved by charisma and humor). Following this, the audience was immediately abducted by the band and SPT's spectacular arrangement of Harry Nilsson's famous "One," led by Jane Pini's beautiful, space-filling vocals. The whole audience was enlivened; the musical assortments which interspersed skits and monologues helped to carry a sense of unity through what could have been a more confusing, disjointed production. However, like a dream in which the scenes change rapidly but maintain a theme of meaning or feeling, so was this performance linked by the prompt of "One," the music, and the five sequential episodes of "Grant Woody," in which Sullivan's Nan and guest David Combs' Grant Wood part ways and journey through the art world in search of space from each other.

The performance of each and every participant was wonderful, with almost too many highlights to point out. Sullivan's Nan, with her Fargo accent, startled jumps, and conspicuous huffing her bangs from her face, was especially endearing. Coiner-Winn, Adam Witte, and David Morton also had their stage-stealing moments, and their parts in "Alex Trebek," "The Search," "First Among Equals," "Madame Ovary," and "School of Fish" are certainly to be anticipated.

Yet, however strong the acting, the real star of the show was the unceasingly unique and engaging writing, particularly evident in the innumerable one-liners provided by the one-sided phone conversation in "First Among Equals" and in the poignancy of "I Would Like to Say," written by Nji. This latter in particular stuck with me, not least because of its sobriety of topic—ideas of kindness and the universality of religious teachings—in the midst of all the silliness. I found especially memorable the lines, "I believe peace on Earth comes in fleeting moments," and "...Heaven is bribery, Hell is extortion, and senseless kindness is the only kind that makes sense." Nji's writing shone again in her monologue about her young headstrong daughter, who replies to "You can't go to Monroe, they're closing the school," with "Watch me!" Which of course results in on-stage consumption of a quantity of wine (provided by the attendant Witte with a nice bottle of red).

There were few flubs and mistakes throughout the production, although there were several instances of unintended darkness. Most mistakes were, I'm sure, unnoticeable to me, and the rest were covered adequately with ad lib, such as when the wine in the aforementioned skit was spilled a bit and Nji simply proceeded to sip it off her sleeve and glass, no big deal. The one major trip-up came in one of the last musical numbers: I'm not sure exactly what was going on, but the song seemed vocally unrehearsed and more than a little sloppy to begin with. Just as I was becoming concerned that the magic of the production would be ruined, the piece was salvaged and ended strongly, and I envy the audience's experience tonight.

I am so glad I was able to experience SPT's production of 1, playing one more night only: September 15 at 8:00 p.m., at CSPS in Cedar Rapids. It was was immensely engaging and, surprisingly, left me with equal doses of giggle-induced endorphins, meditations on meaning, and pride in the talent inherent in the artists of my home region. I look forward to the next show, 2, which opens early in November, and the many future "Tales From the Writers' Room." Don't miss out- make sure to get your tickets and seats early!

"Writer's Skirmish" Tackles Strong Stances

By Kassia Lisinski; Photos by Bethany Horning.

Iowa City - Seating myself in the Unitarian Universalist Society of Iowa City for Dreamwell's "Writers' Skirmish," I found myself captivated by ambiance and watercolor paintings, abstract suggested explosions of plant pollination, red dandelion heads, the dispersed fire over a chalice. The woody old floors, the fold-out chairs, the wheelchair lift beside the slightly upraised stage, everything illuminated by big moon-like lights and a dim fluorescent indigo from behind the white backdrop of the stage. The place was very warm but so was the hospitality, welcoming the audience this summer Saturday night to celebrate strong character through a series of three one-act plays, winners of the Skirmish's theme "Here I Stand."

The first play presented was James Grob's Some Assembly Required, directed by Meg Dobbs.

(Pictured, L-R: Melinda Kay as Carolyn, Linda Merritt as Gina, Monty Hendricks as Josh, and Traci Schoenle as Linda in Some Assembly Required by James Grob)

The set was simple and adequate, conveying a distinctly American feel: a picnic chair you might set up for a summertime barbecue or fireworks show, a blue cooler, and in the center of it a grave soccer-mom looking woman standing tall and holding a sign declaring in bright blue paint "FREEDOM."

The sign is pivotal in the simple plot: The woman, named Gina and played by Linda Merritt, planted herself in front of a courthouse holding the aforementioned sign, and was investigated and examined by a series of allegorical characters who, in the process, did their best to define freedom before the cops break up the party at the request of local businessmen unhappy with the disruption.

The events and message are clearly opinionated, but raise interesting questions about how the overuse of a word or symbol can confound its meaning to the individual, and illuminating the ways in which people can be pitted against each other by real or prescribed roles, though they may actually be in agreement.

The dialogue overall was a strength in the show, witty but natural, delivered nicely by the talented cast. The banter between the characters Gina and Carolyn the reporter, played by Melinda Kay, was especially enjoyable and drew real laughter from the audience. The performances were further enhanced by costume that communicated perfectly who these people were before they even spoke: disgruntled housewife, young reporter, wet-eared cop, overgrown trust fund kid, patriotic soldier. They served well enough as embodiments of different types of American people and attitudes, yet lacked the diversity of representation required for their intended purpose. Nevertheless, they were a strong cast of characters and actors.

I was impressed with the final scene. It was well-executed, drawing the audience in through lighting, sound, and the centering of the action outside of the stage, in front of the characters as they looked out upon us. It was, in a way, unsatisfying, and very relevant to current events.

The set for Carrie and Richard New's Afterwerx, directed by Brian Tanner was also initially simple, gaining complexity through effects and direction; it consisted of a dark blue sofa, a stool, a four-legged teal table with a laptop atop it, and a grey folding chair. This made up the waiting room for the Afterwerx office, a company which sends individuals into the afterlife to track down and make amends with the dead (for a steep fee) in order to assist them in overcoming the regrets of their lives. Quite another dimension to the show was added when, as the characters descended to the afterlife, they also descended from the raised stage to the open space directly before the audience, heavy wooden doors closing behind them, light changing, and a large pillar introduced declaring whether they were at level one, two, or three of the underworld.

Particularly adding to the ambiance of this work was the lighting, which flashed at the appropriate times signalling the imperative to descend another level, brightened and lowered between scenes and at one point impressively highlighted the setting when dimmed in synchronization with the entrance of the slow, dark shambling of several extras posing as the dead. I would have been delighted with the skilled scene-setting, if not for the chills up my spine. The three-dimensional atmosphere was also enhanced by the actors coming and going from the stage through the seating area of the audience (a method which was also used in Some Assembly Required as Steven the police officer, played by Nate Sullivan, made his entrance and exit).

The acting in Afterwerx left something to be desired, with a few flubs and performances tending more towards wooden than engaging. It is unfortunate that a mistake in line delivery seemed to throw off the mood of the scene, which could have been recovered more gracefully through a little impromptu ad lib to maintain the realism of the dialogue. However, Brad Quinn's portrayal of Grey, nervous and slightly ticcy but well-meaning, was endearing and stood out in this play in terms of acting.

(Pictured, L-R: Melinda Kay as Melanie and Brad Quinn as Grey in AfterWerx by Carrie and Richard New)

The script was phenomenal, the mystery of the motivation for descent and the secrets within keeping me enthralled, as evidenced in my notes which were repeatedly interspersed with "What's going on?"


The ending was a mild twist-- not shocking but unexpected enough and foreshadowed very well. Bravo to the suspense of the script which, along with the immersive nature of the production, made this an engaging experience.

The final play in the sequence -- and the winner of the Skirmish -- was Amy White's World's Teeniest, directed by Matthew Falduto, taking place in a cluttered apartment setting where a woman played by Noel Van Den Bosch attempted to unpack in while trying to remain undistracted by an intruding little girl. The girl, played by the wonderfully talented Mary Vander Weg, seemed an unwelcome visitor, digging through boxes, asking questions, forcing answers. The woman was unreasonably short and harsh with her, for reasons becoming clear as the script and allegory elegantly unfolded.

(Pictured, L-R: Mary Vander Weg as Girl and Noel Van Den Bosch as Woman inWorld's Teeniest by Amy White.)

The pacing of the piece is exceptional, and I enjoyed that the exact allegory was never completely revealed but had to be deduced by the audience. The elements of the metaphor are very specific and it is clear, as Falduto stated in his notes, that every line and action is imbued with the message of the play. However, this was also a drawback.

Once the puzzle began to unravel, a strong political message revealed itself. Although it was a skillful and creatively designed argument, the message it carried was more pushy than persuasive, giving too many firm answers and asking too few questions, heavy-handed enough not to ruin but certainly to distract from the superb acting, dialogue, and direction. Despite this and the weightiness of the issue, the play remained for the most part light-hearted, centered and drawing on the energy of Vander Weg's character.

As in the first play, the ending is aesthetically pleasing but not what you would call a resolution. It is interesting to note that these demonstrations of powerful stands against opposing forces were not necessarily happy or "all loose ends tied" types of finales. That, along with the effects and immersive direction of the plays, delivered a solid experience that I would recommend. It was refreshing to see these fictions reveal such a relevant truth: that although taking a stand for what one knows is right is, well, right, the end results can be bittersweet. An important lesson to remember, delivered by a talented ensemble of original minds.

"Writer's Skirmish" plays again July 20 and 21 at 7:30 at 10 S Gilbert St. in Iowa City. Tickets are $13 ($10 students & seniors).

Jack and the Beanstalk is Original and Engaging

By Kassia Lisinski; photo by Shelley Klimes






Eddie Skaggs as Jack and Jeff Haffner as the Giant








Amana—Remember that big parachute thing from elementary school? Of course you do. We all do, each of us lucky enough to have experienced the weird womb-like joy of hanging out in a giant tent with friends... to be suddenly, seamlessly transported to another world through means we didn't understand. Such is the experience of a well-done children's production like the Old Creamery Theatre's Jack and the Beanstalk, by Bob Rafferty. It is a show which appeals to both kids and the parents and grandparents willing to climb under the parachute to the same make-believe world.

Over the spare but elegantly designed stage, directly in center and recessed behind the curtains a ways, is suspended a tent-top prop irresistibly reminiscent of the old parachute. It accentuates the nostalgia of my first time here since I was a child, and memories vaguely return in the myriad of quilts and exercise ball squishy chairs, the lobby, and the clown who takes my ticket and directs me to a seat in the bare theater, which gradually fills to, if not quite a full house, very close.

The stage is lit dimly by mauve. The gentle light sets a mood and atmosphere, reflecting the capability of the forces behind the scenes: simplistic, never distracting in its effects, and enriching to the world of Jack and his Beanstalk. I found myself impressed by the room-filling boom of the giant's baritone, accentuated without distracting by a mechanically effected echo, and particularly captivated by the utilization of a flood of growing green illumination and a scrunching, creaking, purely growing sound effect to depict the growth of the giant vine sans tangible props.

The set itself adds an extra dimension, circus-themed but not at all over the tent top (sorry). Four curiously caricaturistic representations of the cast emblazon tapestries hanging from the split chartreuse curtains which frame the set. Each presents a different circus act title: "Psychic!", "Bearded Woman!", "Wild Animals!", and "Tallest Man!" and the corresponding character. My personal favorite was the one of Jack, showing a slightly confuzzled, mildly defeated boy leading a long-legged booted pig-thing, which I soon realized was meant to be a cow. The final element of the set is a three-tiered platform, with a door and hiding space beneath serving as the oven in which Jack hid from the giant. On this platform are set two shoes stage left, which are later cleverly used to shorten the legs of the actor playing the giant when he fills a smaller part temporarily, preventing the need to remove the stilts he stands upon.

At the start of the play, an usher-clown takes the stage to greet us, giving a shout out to Alexis (she's seven today), asking us to shut off our phones, and presenting the show. The music begins, the lights flash, and the players take the stage in an exuberant swarm: the Ringmaster played by Steve Weiss, the Fortune Teller played by BJ Moeller, Nicholas Hodge's Bearded Lady, Jeff Haffner as the World's Tallest Man, and Eddie Skaggs as the eponymous Jack, juggling (with only a minor mishap in ball-handling) his way across the stage. The narration unfolds, and the reintroduction of Hodge as the Cow which must be taken to market is priceless: pink-haired, bearded, bow perched atop head, faux roller skate legs as hind quarters. His return as the Giant's Wife (still wearing the beard) is another highlight of the show. Haffner's portrayal of the Giant is near perfect. Perched atop stilts, he lumbers convincingly, all slow and enormous and dumb as any proper giant should be. Particularly amusing were the sputtering snores complete with comically flapping lips as he drifted off into a nap, various treasures clutched in arm.

The direction and timing of the show was impeccable in that it was hardly noticeable, but shone in the grace of the actors' opening shenanigans and the timing of the entrances and exits, particularly of the giant. The entire cast seemed very well in tune with and aware of each other's actions.

Overall, I was very pleasantly surprised by the entertainment value of the production to those outside of the target audience, and found myself transported not entirely, but ever so slightly enough back into that world under the parachute tent. For those with children, a trip to The Old Creamery Theatre's production of Jack and the Beanstalk is an ideal excursion, a welcome escape that fully engages the imagination as only theatre can.

Jack and the Beanstalk runs through June 30, playing at 1 p.m. on Saturdays and 10 a.m. on Tuesday June 19, Thursday June 21, and Wednesday June 27. Tickets are $8.