I lived in Alaska, and everyone there knows you don’t get between a mother moose and her baby.
As humans, we tend to think kindly of maternal fierceness, whether of the four-legged or two-legged variety. There’s something inherently touching about the instinctual urge to defend one’s offspring. We understand — and celebrate — it. We might not want to be at the receiving end of a 2,000 pound behemoth shaking her antlers at us, but even as we’re running away, a part of us is likely thinking, “Good for her.”
The biggest appeal of Yasmina Reza’s clever and subversive “God of Carnage,” which receives an accomplished new production by StageWorks Fresno, is how the playwright lulls the audience into thinking it’s simply in for an entertaining protective-parents-duke-it-out scenario.
In this modern version of a drawing room comedy, we’re introduced to two sets of parents who gather to deal with the aftermath of a dispute between their two sons. One 11-year-old hit another with a stick on a local playground, taking out a couple of teeth in the process. The two couples get together at the home of the tooth-deprived boy because it’s the “civilized” thing to do.
But it’s clear from the awkward opening moments of the play as the two couples chat — minutes filled with forced courtesy larded with distant disdain — that things aren’t going to turn out well. ”How many parents standing up for their children become infantile themselves?” asks Annette (the wonderful Shannon Eizenga), mother of the offender, telegraphing the mayhem to come.
Figaro, the barber in Rossini’s comic romp of an opera, “The Barber of Seville,” isn’t just a guy with a straight-edge razor blade. As the character so memorably reminds us in his opening aria, he manages to fit a lot more into his workday than trimming hair. He’s basically an “arranger” — someone who has his hand in just about everyone’s business in town, especially when it comes to matters of love. As Figaro reminds us, he makes good money, meets interesting people and is always in the know. No wonder he thinks it’s the perfect job.
From his opening moments as Figaro in the California Opera production Sunday at the Mercedes Edwards Theatre, Constantine Pappas ably captured that happy sense of exuberance. So did the production as a whole. With an excellent cast, great singing and an always upbeat confidence, it was one of the strongest Cal Opera titles I’ve seen in recent years.
What better time than midsummer (well, technically, early summer) to watch Shakespeare’s “A Midsummer Night’s Dream”? Then add the verite of watching it outside, with a gentle evening breeze stirring away the last remnants of a robustly warm Fresno day, and the experience can be magical.
It helps to have a competent version of the classic play complete the scene, and that’s what you get with the Woodward Shakespeare Festival’s latest incarnation. (It plays 8 p.m. Thursdays-Saturdays through July 6, with no performance July 4.) Director Aaron Spjute delivers a thoughtful, often funny production that delineates one of the play’s themes particularly well: the wild, uncivilized forest tempting our baser urges vs. the cooler, more cerebral structure of the city appealing to our higher instincts.
Fulton 55 continues to prove what some in the scene had been saying for years. Fresno needed a well-booked, well-staffed mid-sized venue that could consistently attract second- and third-tier touring acts. The Save Mart Center got us The Rolling Stones, but the city needed a place that would attract the likes of … well, Dinosaur Jr.
The Shrine: Three-piece fuzz-toned stoner rock from Long Beach. They’ve been through town a few times. I caught them the first time around and was a fan. But within a month, I got introduced to American Sharks, and mostly forgot about the Shrine.
Glad for the reintroduction. The band was in fine form as the opener, with a quick, but blistering set. This is what it must have been like seeing early Ted Nugent, in terms of the raw furiosity. This is pure-form rock-and-roll. Guitarist Josh Landau is particularly impressive. It’s like the dude doesn’t play rhythm lines. It’s all runs and solos and feedback squeal. And it is awesome.
We’re conditioned to think there’s power in numbers. Consider the five senses. A person with all five is at a distinct advantage over someone who only has four, right?
Especially if the one with four is blind and sharing a confined space with an avowed killer.
But, as we slowly learn in the suspenseful stage production of “Wait Until Dark,” directed by Denise Graziani, the math doesn’t always add up so neatly.
Key to this crisply designed — and in a few choice moments, jump-in-your-seat scary — Good Company Players production is a rousing performance by Danielle Jorn as Susy, a recently blinded woman who gets caught up in desperate power struggle with a trio of hardened criminals.
The FX Network became a major player in the cable world with “Sons of Anarchy,” “American Horror Story” and “Justified.” Its latest offering, “The Americans,” only adds to the quality the cable channel has to offer.
The series debuts at 10 p.m. Jan. 30 on FX.
“The Americans” looks at what appears to be a typical suburban couple — played by Keri Russell and Matthew Rhys — living the American Dream during the early years of the Ronald Reagan administration. They’re actually two KGB agents who have been living a secret life for almost 15 years.
It’s a dark and thrilling look at the spy game during the peak of the Cold War. It’s not your typical Americans-are-better series because its told from the point of view of the Russians. The natural tendency is to hate them but the series shows that behind the cold determination of the spies are two humans trying to deal with love, parenting and a mortgage.
Russell’s performance is particularly strong because the series doesn’t take the usual tactic when it comes to spies. Her character is the one who has the unwavering loyalty to the Motherland while Rhys plays the role of realist who knows if they continue their ploy, it can only end badly. Russell is anything but the typical casting to play a female Russian spy which makes the deception all the more believable.
A moment to add to my list of Things I’ll Never Forget: Kristin Chenoweth’s last note in “Bring Him Home” from “Les Miserables,” which she sang as part of an extraordinary concert performance Friday night at the Saroyan Theatre. As the spotlight on the Broadway and TV star slowly faded to black, that intensely held, startlingly high final note seemed to hang somewhere between illumination and darkness, its thrilling resonance — so gentle but yet so sure — infusing the hall with its own warm, golden glow.
Chills? You bet. I’ve heard lots of divas in my time, and this was the most charming live concert I’ve ever experienced. Chenoweth’s voice was brilliant, no surprise, and her acting exquisite as she worked through an eclectic mix of musical-theater, gospel, pop and country songs. But more than that, she built an intense emotional connection with the audience. At times funny, plaintive, spiritual, topical and down-to-earth, she gave Fresno an unforgettable evening.
Taking the stage with her own rhythm and percussion section, along with a handful of talented members of the Fresno Grand Opera orchestra — all led by the first-rate musical director Mary Mitchell Campbell on piano — the Oklahoma native soared on such tunes as Kander and Ebb’s “Maybe This Time,” bringing a subtlety and empathy to the lyrics that made me really listen to them anew. She shared her Christian faith in an exhilarating gospel rendition of “Upon This Rock.” She played tribute to country great Dolly Parton in an amusing ditty titled “What Would Dolly Do”?” (Her three ensemble cast members, all Broadway veterans, assisted in that song by holding up signs that spelled out “W W DD?”)
On the agenda: a nostalgia ride back to the late 1980s. Would you like a nunchuck with that?
The second national tour of “Rock of Ages,” which brought its gussied-up, goofy self to the Saroyan Theatre Monday for an evening of inspired glam-metal revelry, appeared to drive the older couple sitting in front of me out of the theater two-thirds of the way through the first act. Ah, the depravity of it all: the crashing guitar solos, the throbbing power-metal ballads, the lingerie-inspired stripper garb for the ladies, the big-hair moments for the gents — all positively shocking, right?
Well, perhaps for those subscribers who bought the season package to see “My Fair Lady.” But for all its bluster and bravado, the biggest “danger” in the amiable and witty “Rock of Ages” is choking with laughter at the gratuitous wine-cooler references scissored into the plot. (There is referential trauma associated with Mr. Bartles and Mr. Jaymes that stings to this day.) The music of the era — lovingly represented in this jukebox musical by nearly two dozen offerings from such icons as Journey, White Snake, Poison and Pat Benatar — might have driven parents crazy at the time. But for all the high-octane brashness of these rockers, there was something even back then that was sweet and silly about their studded belts, extravagantly teased tresses, endless guitar solos and slo-mo hair swishing. What “Rock of Ages” manages to do is poke loving fun at the genre in a slick package made up of equal parts camp, grit and adoration, along with a cheerful dose of mocking the musical-theater genre.
Annette Roman knew exactly what she was doing when she named her solo performance show “Hitler’s Li’l Abomination.” A provocative title can sell a show. In the course of her performance, she even ponders the propriety of her Rogue Festival program photo, which depicts her waving a couple of swastika flags. She seems to suggest that a little sensationalism in the service of greater truths can be forgiven — a sentiment with which I can concur. Get the audiences through the door, then hit them with the good stuff.
In Roman’s case, the core of her show is an intriguing one. Her father was a Jewish Holocaust survivor, and her mother was in the Hitler Youth. The fact that her parents actually procreated would have been enough to make Hitler crazy — hence the title. Though there are some comic shadings to Roman’s show, as reflected by the swastika flags pic, she hopes to construct a serious philosophical and historical discussion.
So far, so good, then. There’s a lot of potential in this autobiographical tale. But this show just doesn’t work as well as it should. It needs a more cohesive script and better direction.
A sweet story and two talented actors — one the youngest participant in the Rogue Festival, the other with a few more years and gray hairs on him — come together in “The Implausible Claus,” a short play at the Broken Leg Stage. Ron Blackwell plays an old vaudeville performer moping through his days at a retirement home when a street-smart and precocious 9-year-old girl (played by Nayelli Zechman) pops in for an unscheduled visit.
Nicki Harmon’s play, written more than 20 years ago, introduces us to the Ho Ho Hotline, which has been installed in the Evergreen Retirement Home in Jersey City. As depicted by director Brandey Steiner, the hotline is almost akin to slave labor, with the depressed vaudevillian, named Aaron Lefkowitz, grumping his way through his daily duties as he answers called from children thinking they’re talking to Santa.
For many in this country today, it’s a hard-knock life. The parallels between the musical “Annie,” set in the depths of the Depression, and our current economic situation are among the more poignant themes articulated in the new Children’s Musical Theaterworks production of the classic show. Hearing a big-lunged girl belting about the sun coming out “Tomorrow” is always a crowd-pleaser, but in this case, it takes on even more meaning. (The play continues through Dec. 18 at the Fresno Memorial Auditorium.)
I liked this production, but in terms of my expecations for community theater, it has some weaknesses. (I have a higher standard for CMT’s all-ages shows than its usual youth productions, which feature cast members ages 20 and younger.) There are some fine acting and vocal performances, spiffy sets, nice costumes and a very cute dog playing Sandy. A lot of hard work went into this production, and it shows. But the direction, choreography and lighting design is uneven.
The Central California Ballet’s version of “The Nutcracker” is a happy combination of professional ballet dancers and enthusiastic community members. This year’s production — which played three performances over the weekend at the Saroyan Theatre — was a nice blend of the two.
In some ways, it was the little things that tickled me this year: the way the littlest dancer in the Chinese dragon, stuck in the rear, wiggled the tail. Or the big pillars that look like ice-cream sundaes on the Kingdom of the Sweets backdrop. Or the cleverness of Herr Drosselmeyer’s “magic” box in the party scene. And how about those twitching, restless mice, who manage to be both endearing and rodent-like at the same time?
The pros were in fine form as well. Ethan and Nikki White, who catapulted to national fame thanks to Paula Abdul’s “Live to Dance” TV competition, made an exquisite Sugar Plum Fairy and Cavalier. And a happy homecoming feeling was in the air when it came to Courtney Boyd, a Fresno native who trained with Central California Ballet and is now a member of Santa Monica’s Monat Dance group, when she performed as the “Dew Drop” soloist.
Poetzsch, a German violinist, violist and composer, joined with Essaka, a German/Cameroonian dancer and choregrapher, in “Cicadas Whispering,” a concert-length piece featuring spoken poetry, movement and a mix of live and recorded music by Poetzsch. The piece in its various movements is meant to evoke the sounds and energy of Douala, the largest city in Cameroon. From the outset, it became clear that motion on the part of the musician as well as the dancer was integral to the piece. Poetzsch paced the stage with precise movements as he played, often executing slick 90-degree turns, and at other times scooting across stage in a rolling chair. Essaka was on stage with him at times performing her choreography. Both got solo turns in the spotlight as well.
I found the experience overwrought and tedious, especially after the hour mark. Poetzsch’s live virtuoso playing seemed swamped by his recorded tracks, giving the whole experience an unfortunate karaoke feel. Throw in the spoken words, and it started becoming a mush. (A persistent hiss in the John Wright Theatre’s sound system didn’t help.) His incessant choreographed movements seemed less an essential and organic part of the piece and more a gimmick meant to rein in multidisciplinary performance-art followers. (Or marching band fans.)
As for that trip to bustling Cameroon — it got lost in the midst of all the artistic fussiness. The heart of this piece just didn’t beat.
He got a standing ovation before he even opened his mouth.
But that was to be expected at Juan Diego Florez’s Fresno concert Monday at the Saroyan Theatre — one of only three appearances for the famed bel canto tenor in North America this year. Florez’s reputation preceded him, which was no surprise. First thrust into the international spotlight about five years ago when he nailed the tremendously difficult Donizetti aria from “La Fille du regiment” demanding NINE perfectly sung high C’s, the accolades have continued to pile up, with many calling Florez the heir to Luciano Pavarotti.
Florez didn’t disappoint on Monday evening, when a packed house — including some very excited fans waving little Peruvian flags — were treated to a impressive display of musicianship.
How to describe the way Florez sings? There were times, clutching his lapels with both hands and leaning ever so slightly forward as he was hitting one of his high, pure tones, that I swear I could see his entire body quiver right down to his toes. A singer’s “instrument” is more than his or her vocal cords, of course — it’s the entire corporeal being supporting those vocals — and it was in these moments that Florez’s complete dedication to the physicality of his effort came across as stirring. That was especially the case with his almost hypnotic aria from Rossini’s “The Barber of Seville.”
Meet Antonio. He’s a little distracted. This hot-shot business guy, dressed in a sharp blazer, spiffy shoes and cool shades, is in the middle of a big deal right now — something about a pound of flesh as collateral for a loan — but that doesn’t stop him from peering at his smartphone every few seconds, as if to say, yeah, I’ve got other projects, and you’re not important enough to focus on exclusively. In an era of incessant multitasking, Antonio’s truncated attention span is a telling signifier of power in a business relationship: He doesn’t even have to give his lender, the gruff Shylock, more than 80% of his consideration.
Such is one of the lively — and very effective — modern-day moments created in the new Woodward Shakespeare Festival’s production of “Merchant of Venice.” Filled with power suits, yoga mats, boutique shopping bags and enough cell phones to fill a junior-high-school teacher’s locked contraband desk drawer, the concept makes for a brisk and telling interpretation of this often problematic classic.
I have to be honest, I didn’t really enjoy the Fresno Dance Collective show Saturday afternoon. And, after talking to a few people in line at other shows yesterday, I get the sense that I’m not the only one who left this performance feeling a bit disappointed.
I can’t quite put my finger on what it was. Maybe it’s a combination of things, such as the show being a half hour (not the 45 minutes advertised) and feeling so rushed that I had no time to process what I saw between vignettes. It could be that I felt there was a lack of fluidity between moves, as if the dancers were preparing for the next step instead of seamlessly moving. Or maybe it was that I never really felt like the dancers — who are definitely talented — really connected to the music, choreography or each other. The moves were all there, beautiful bodies, crisp positions, movement, lightness, conviction, but yet, I never really felt anything. Maybe it was that this is the company’s premiere performance locally, and it just needs more time to shake out the bugs. Or, maybe it was just me. I love watching dancers, and I expect to be moved. Saturday, that didn’t really happen for me.
I really am excited to see this local dance company emerge. I applaud their goal of exposing and educating the Valley about modern dance. At one point in Saturday’s show, guest dancer Megan Yankee of San Mateo talks about how the company wants to get rid of the notion of modern dance not being understandable — that there is no right answer and it’s OK for each person to interpret the dance in a different way. I agree, and I hope they succeed.
SHOW INFO: 4 p.m. Saturday at Severance, 1401 N. Wishon. Admission: $10.
First, I have to confess: I have no idea what makes good belly dancing. The only belly dancing I had ever seen, until Saturday, was in the movies. That said, I really enjoyed the “Orgins” show by Fallen Orchid.
The three women who danced were beautiful, tasteful, controlled and sultry. They do this thing with their eyes — kind of looking at you but not — that really oozes sex appeal and draws you in (I know my husband was captivated). If this was an “America’s Next Top Model” critique, Tyra Banks would be gushing at how they smiled with their eyes.
The 60-minute program consists of the trio performing together, as pairs and in solo numbers. Each girl seemed as strong on her own as she did with the group. When the ladies dance together, they really compliment each other. There are some fun surprises, such as one number involving balancing a stick and another with a snake. This PG-13 show is not suggested for children, but I found it very tasteful. The costumes are sexy but not gross or inappropriate (the strategically placed tattoos add a little something interesting). The moves are rhythmic but not too suggestive.
There are several belly dance shows in this year’s Rogue Festival lineup. I have no idea how this compares to those. All I can say is that this show was fun. I left smiling.
SHOW INFO: 7 p.m. today, 4 p.m. Saturday at Million Too, 1153 N. Fulton. Admission: $7.
The best way to describe Kurt Fitzpatrick’s one-man show “The Last Straight Man in Theatre” is weird (There’s gratuitous use of cats. Nonlinear storytelling. Strange characters. Multimedia. Dancing. Pie. And even an orgasm.)
That doesn’t mean I didn’t like it. I did, strangely. It’s so odd that I found my self transfixed, waiting to see what would happen next. Waiting to see if I could finally make sense of what it all meant. In the end, I did, sort of, get it.
Mainly, I walked away from the show encouraged by the unique storytelling and use of multimedia. This show could not have been easy to put together — combining the live acting with the video acting and making all feel as one. Fitzpatrick, who plays a series of male and female characters, is so energetic that the production never loses steam. He does a good job of making his surrounding and the audience part of the show.
At last year’s Rogue Festival, Fitzpatrick created buzz with his “Hooray for Speech Therapy.” I didn’t see that show, but I get the feeling this year’s show is a little different. I wasn’t sorry I dedicated 60 minutes to this show. There were parts that made me laugh, such as the national anthem, computer dance and teen-age chat. And there were part that had me dumbfounded. But I stuck with it, and in the end, I liked it.
SHOW INFO: 7 p.m. and 10 p.m. Friday, 4 p.m. and 8 p.m. Saturday at Briggs, 1212 N. Van Ness. Admission: $7.
This 60-minute show examines the stages of love from being a hopeless romantic (yearning for day someone tells you that “you would be worth dying for”) to being a love hater (F— LOVE!) and not really knowing how you will end up. Katherine commands the stage, effortlessly moving from scene to scene, from funny moments to sad, poignant points of discovery.
Some of the funniest moments come when she talks about falling for “straight girls” and being named “The Slut” in college. But my favorite scene was “The Wife,” which combined all the elements of good storytelling — romance, tension, conflict, humor and self-discovery. The performance felt honest and made me root for her. Will she embrace her hopeless romantic side or cling to the cynic? I don’t know the answer, but I bet she comes up with a lot more stories along the way.
SHOW INFO: 2:30 p.m. today, 8:30 p.m. Thursday, 10 p.m. Friday and 7 p.m. Saturday at Million Too, 1153 N. Fulton. Admission: $7.
“Parellel Lives,” a satirical play by Mo Gaffney and Kathy Najimy, is one of those comedies that you never get bored with. Even if a couple scenes that seemed to drag on a bit too long, such as the cowboy bar, there are these tiny nuggets of genius that bring a smile and chuckle. And in the scenes that were fantastically funny, such as the one about tampons, and incredibly portrayed, like the bathroom grooming scene, you’re sorry to see them end. After 50 minutes of laugh after laugh, I was sorry to see this play end. The sister-woman-sister scene near the end is so over-the-top funny that it reminded of an old-school Saturday Night Live skit.
This comedy pokes fun everything from menstruation to religion and could upset some viewers. The audience Friday night really roared with laughter and the content didn’t seem to bother anyone.
The six actresses that take us through the scenes of coping with everyday life, really nailed the comedic timing. The set was easy to follow. The changes from scene to scene are seamless. The music prompts fit perfectly. There was really very little to quibble about in this production.
If you want hilarious during this Rogue Festival run, go see “Parallel Lives.”
SHOW INFO: x 1 p.m. Sunday, 8:30 p.m. Friday and 2:30 p.m. Saturday at Severance, 1401 N. Wishon. Admission: $7.
Curtain Number Three Production’s “Flustered & Sheepish” is a charming one-woman show that will make you laugh.
This coming-of-age story follows Carrie through the trials of adolescence, marking such impossible-to-forget moments of youth like the “vomitrocious” moment of popping your first zit, worry about spontaneous pregnancy (“What if I sit on some sperm?) and thinking about having sex on prom night but being grossed out by a guys moves (“Did he just lick me?”). The scenes are easy to identify with and impossible not to laugh at. We’ve all had some version of these moments, so guys, even you should be fine connecting with this story.
At Friday night’s performance at the Starline, there were a couple points when the story lost energy — and the actress struggled to keep her voice — but it seems this tale of a young-girl’s epiphanies will only get stronger with more polish and practice. I felt like a bit of tightening the script in the middle acts could help smooth the rough spots.
I definitely recommend seeing this show. The first and final acts really got the crowd laughing. It’s charming and fun — and will really bring back memories of surviving the teen years. No wonder we had so much angst!
SHOW INFO: 10 p.m. tonight, 4 p.m. Sunday at Starline, 833 N. Fern. Admission: $7.
I’ve seen lots of musicals on Broadway (including “Avenue Q,”), and I see lots of touring shows at the Saroyan. It always delights me when a tour comes close to replicating the quality of the Broadway production. Guess you could say it makes me glad to know that folks in Fresno are getting close — or even within a whisper of the original — to the New York experience.
That’s the case with just about every aspect of this “Avenue Q,” which continues for one more performance tonight. Cheerfully stuffed with almost every provocative theatrical convention you can imagine — rampant profanity, blatant racial offensiveness, hardcore puppet sex, jokes about Republicans, all brilliantly intermingled with the beloved conventions of “Sesame Street” — there were a few audience members who didn’t return after intermission. Which is probably the highest accolade the show can get.
Above: Jacqueline Grabois and Brent Michael DiRoma of the national tour. Photo: John Daughtry / “Avenue Q”