Archive for the ‘Theatre’ Category

Walt Whitman and Democracy: Theatre

Friday, June 8th, 2007

For those of you in the SF Bay Area a couple of live theater events are worth your attention.

Last night I went to see Song of Myself at the Marsh, on Valencia and 22nd. John O’Keefe, an actor and writer of some accomplishment, delivered an hour long, rolling, lifting, falling, eye-ball to eye-ball delivery of the (somewhat edited) major poem from the first edition of Walt’s Leaves of Grass.

“I celebrate myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.

I loafe and invite my soul….”

I’d never heard it in all it’s length, nor by such a dynamic reader — leaving aside listening to myself of course! Many is the hour I have snatched into my teeth and chewed on some of the stanzas.

“Do I contradict myself?
Very well then….I contradict myself;
I am large….I contain multitudes.”

“I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.”

I hadn’t remembered the stanzas about God near the end of the poem, which O’Keefe seemed to underline as he ’sang.’

“And I call to mankind, Be not curious about God,
For I who am curious about each am not curious about God,
No array of terms can say how much I am at peace about God and about death.

I hear and behold God in every object, yet I understand God not in the least,
Nor do I understand who there can be more wonderful than myself.

Why should I wish to see God better than this day?
I see something of God each hour of the twenty-four, and each moment then,
In the faces of men and women I see God, and in my own face in the glass;
I find letters from God dropped in the street, and every one is signed by God’s name,
And I leave them where they are, for I know that others will punctually come forever and ever.”

So it was good! Better than good, without being all it might have been. I would have had him slow down a bit from time to time, especially between the “jump-cuts” the sudden change of theme Whitman used to such great effect. I would have had him more ruminative, more in charge by use of the voice and less with the movement on stage. One of Whitman’s life-long dreams was to be a great orator — in those times of great orators. He never achieved that plateau though plenty have heard the mighty voice in the words themselves.

For another treat, you could go see Josh Kornbluth, in Citizen Josh at the Magic Theatre. I didn’t see him myself but I have it from a trusted source (my wife,) that Kornbluth was at the top of his form, humorous, engaging and involved in the world (Red Diaper Baby, Ben Franklin: Unplugged, among others.)

Suzanne Weiss at Culture Vulture
tells us this:

His riff on the democratic process takes us from the last election, to Ohlone Park playground in Berkeley, with a few stops at the desegregation of an Alabama high school and his radical childhood in New York. The whole thing actually is his senior thesis, delivered 25 years after the due date. Kornbluth went to Princeton and, after realizing he was never going to realize his dream of being a great physicist, switched to political science. Under the guidance of an inspirational professor, Sheldon Wolin, and the tolerance of a kindly dean, he managed to make it through – everything but the thesis. There is another riff on killing time, which seems to have been his greatest talent in youth. He killed so much time he missed the deadline, got to march down the aisle with his class anyway and went home with an empty diploma case.

All these years later, a successful entertainer and a happy husband and father, his disappointment in the Bush-Gore election leads him to track down his old professor. (His cell phone problems are another funny bit). Finding Wolin, still alive and more than willing to be his thesis advisor, he gets permission to fulfill his academic requirement (evidently there is no statute of limitations at Princeton) a quarter-century after the fact. A quick call to the kindly dean, who is still there, clinches the deal. And all this is true.

Theatre: After The War

Sunday, April 8th, 2007

Phillip Kan Gotanda is a San Francisco playwright so it was particularly interesting to see his “After the War,” about the Fillmore District of San Francisco in 1948, at ACT on Geary Street in San Francisco, 2007. Geary heads straight out to Japan Town, where Geary crosses Fillmore Street coming down from tony Pacific Heights past the Western Addition to cross Haight where the old Fillmore district is now called Haight-Fillmore. [And it gets more interesting: the people of the Fillmore were once almost entirely Japanese descended. When they were forced out into the camps during WW II and African Americans made their way into the the shipyards and other war related work of the Bay Area they took over the abandoned houses, in the process turning the Fillmore into Harlem West, the west coast home of all the great jazz men and women of those years.]

The play starts out slowly, and somewhat dizzyingly as the rotating stage introduces us quickly to the rooms and people of the boarding house which is the set for the duration of the play. As the characters and their situations become settled, the pacing and the rotating, creaking set become part of the lives we watch unfolding from the darkness. These are lives we are not accustomed to seeing in mainstream theater or film, not because they are freaks but because these utterly normal people, for all their presence in the life of the nation, have not been part of its narrative. Gotanda has made it his life’s work in the theater to show on the public stage, more of those whose lives and stories have made America what it is. Here, going beyond the more intimate scale of his earlier plays, he tackles the seams and unruly knots of the fabric.

Chester Monkawa has come back to the Fillmore after three years in Internment camps, where he was one of the No-No boys, those young men who refused to swear allegiance to the United States or to serve in the US Military. Why, they wanted to know, were some citizens, because of family backgrounds, being asked to swear allegiance while other citizens were not asked. The house was his family’s house before they were sent away. Chester has returned to reclaim it and try to make a go of renting out rooms. He had spent time in Chicago as a jazz trumpeter before the war and fits comfortably into the mixed race Fillmore district. One of the boarders, and major character in the play is Earl Worthington, a “colored man” who likes Perry Como to the disbelief of the others, and admires Chet’s way around the trumpet and the Negro jazz scene.

The action unfolds as Chet and Earl watch their friendship stressed beyond repair under the influences of close-in living and multiple relationships. Earl’s wife has left him and has found another man as her sister indelicately puts it, trying to place herself in her straying sister’s place. The sister, though bonded by blood and culture can’t dislodge the sexual and emotional tug of Marie-Louise, a blond transplant from Oklahoma, living in the house with her somewhat retarded brother, and making a living as a dance-hall girl. That she had known Chet in Chicago years before and is still drawn to him is one of the key disturbers of their lives.

Chet’s struggle with his position in America and the eyes of his racial family is another driving force: the war split the wider Japanese & American community; Chet’s brother signing up to fight, and then dying; Chet refusing to go and then blaming himself for his brother’s death. Lillian, once the brother’s fiance, is also living in the house and gradually comes to love the “bad brother,” hearing his music near the end of the play, and understanding what it means. Other characters include the rapacious Mr. Oto, a Japanese businessman and Olga, an eastern Russian who, like many Russians, had found a home in Yokohama, Japan. Olga, while paying off her “uncle’s” debt to Mr. Goto by entertaining him as a “visitor” in the house, has a real crush on the nebbishy Mr. Oji who is convinced he is much too homely to ever be loved. Gotanda has fun with the accents, and humorous misunderstandings. The language though, signals the deeper and multiple layers of belonging in all of the characters: Russian and Japanese; American and Japanese; Black and American; White and dangerously in love with a black man.

Perhaps Gotanda could have taken out a few of the characters to let those remaining develop a bit more, as some reviewers have suggested, but then the full spread of meaning would have been lost: in these boarding houses, as in America, were worlds of people struggling with ordinary human emotions. Until now they have remained unseen. He’s done a good job, stepping outside the smaller scale of his previous plays and putting a full tapestry before us.

You won’t regret an afternoon or evening spent in their company.

Other reviews:
Robert Hurwitt: The Chronicle;
Chad Jones: Inside Bay Area;

Janos Greben: The Examiner

I notice in all of these reviews there is some cautionary judgment about Gotanda’s “stridency” in Act II when Chet unloads his anger and his political motivation for his No-No actions. I didn’t find this strident and thought there might be more of it. Perhaps I would have let it simmer, and come out in more nuanced behavior, but perhaps not. The reaction of these critics however, points to the very problem Gotanda is trying to fix: certain behaviors and types of people are considered as ‘normal’, or expected. Those outside this norm are viewed as, well, as outside.

Of course there will always be norms and outside-the-norms in any society but when the pretense is that Group B is the norm for Super Group A, then Group C becomes invisible. There is a norm for Super Group A, yes, but it must include all of its subsets, A to Z. What is “strident” to Mr. Hewitt is not so strident to me. Chester Monkawa had good reason to shout, both at himself and at his country. Let it be seen, and more of it.