Showing posts with label Apollo. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Apollo. Show all posts

Saturday, January 17, 2009

Apollo blasts off


Heavens be praised, opening night of Apollo was the soaring experience we all hoped it would be. (The photo above, by Valerie Spencer, is from the Sputnik section in Part 1.) Yes, the show's a marathon, clocking in at this point at 3.5 hours of playing time; yes, it is sometimes frustratingly (though, we hope, purposefully) repetitious. But the consensus is that it’s a visual and aural feast, a great ride, and worth expedition when it arrives at its profoundly moving conclusion.

Not everybody agrees, of course. During the previews this past week, we invited opinions, either through the questionnaires we passed out or via emails to literary@pcs.org. In addition, as always, various members of the artistic staff have been hailed and assailed through phone calls as well as by email. Friday – the morning after the final preview – I was cc’d on an ecstatic email from a teacher who urged her colleagues all over the county to work with us to make sure their students see the production during its brief (three-week) run. That same morning, Chris Coleman got an email from a patron who accused him of mounting the whole thing just to irk her personally.

Make up your own mind. Don’t miss this singular event, the linchpin production of the Fertile Ground Festival. And bear in mind that tonight, the twittering, chittering, chatteringnattering virtual community is invited to sit in the balcony and comment on the production while it’s in progress. I’m seeing Fat Pig tonight, but as soon as I can rush back home and fire up Twitter I’ll be participating in the colloquium, too.

Hope to see you there.

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

MerryMerry Twelfth Night

Epiphany!
Let the joyous news be spread
The wicked old witch at last is dead.


Epiphany. No, not that one, this one. As all Catholics and theater folk know (thanks to Shakespeare, in the latter case), Epiphany is more than a maudlin soft rock song. In the West European tradition, January 6 is the twelfth and last night of Christmas. You know—the evening when, according to the Bible, wise men from the East (probably astrologers) were led by a star to the infant Jesus in Bethlehem, arriving twelve days after his birth to present gifts of gold (for a king), frankincense (for a priest), and myrrh (as a prescient symbol of suffering).

Historically a lot of quaint and bizarre traditions pertain to the holiday, such as placing three crosses lined with garlic and holy water on the lintel of doors to ward off god-knows-what. In our ostentatiously secular time, the more popular tradition is that you’re legally allowed at long last to rid your home of all holiday frippery.

It’s also the time when employers can legitimately remind us that they party’s over and we can hie ourselves back to work any time now. For most of us, that means hitting the ground running. The past two days have both been endless rounds of meetings and emails for me, but with some fun stuff in there, too: the Continuum reading (which went very well, thank you), a run-through of Apollo (fabulous), and an inspiring meeting of Willamette Writers.

But the biggest epiphany may be just around the corner: the maiden voyage of Portland’s Fertile Ground Festival of new work for the stage. Stay tuned for more about that.

Thursday, November 13, 2008

Preview of Coming Attraction

Nancy Keystone's multimedia epic Apollo opens in exactly 60 days and I can't wait. But now, thanks to the cool new banner at the top of PCS's site, I can literally count the seconds -- check it out here.

Meanwhile, let me tantalize you with this image from the workshop Nancy just finished in Los Angeles.

Thursday, November 22, 2007

L.A. Escapade, part two

First stop in Pasadena was to meet my good friend Raul Staggs, the noted “casting guru,” as the Angels Gate Cultural Center describes him. We got together at the famed Theatre@Boston Court, over on Mentor Avenue. In only a few years of existence, Boston Court has gained a near-legendary reputation for compelling new work, so I was excited to see something in situ at last. I was in luck: the Court was running a tense, eerie new piece by Carlos Murillo (that’s Carlos Murillo the playwright, not the composer, the inorganic chemist or the boxer) entitled Dark Play or stories for boys. Carlos is an inveterate structuralist who revels in word play – repeated motifs that develop (or remain static) in a viral mode, as stories are fractured, split asunder and rejoined in meaningful ways. The title of Dark Play is in itself a reference to imbricated layers of meaning; through dialogue we find out that the term comes from psychology, indicating a game of sort in which one player know he’s playing, and the other…does not.


As directed by Michael Michetti, the production was outstanding on all levels. I felt privileged to see it.

Later I met with Bryan Davidson, a playwright and literary manager I knew from A.S.K.’s golden age, way, way back in the 20th century. Between Bryan and Raul (another A.S.K. vet) I came away fully updated on L.A theater gossip. And later still I reunited with the fab Jessica Kubzansky (co-artistic director of the Boston Court, along with Michael Michetti) and later still with friends from the old neighborhood.

The Big Event, the reason for this whole descent into the L.A. megalopolis, came that evening: the workshop presentation of Part Three of Nancy Keystone’s epic work in progress, Apollo. By the time I arrived around 7:30 (with the performance slated for 8), Diavolo’s dance studio was already thick with groovesters clamoring for a seat. I was impressed but also intimidated; nearly everybody was wearing the same black pants. Was it going to be an arms-folded, ok-now-wow-me sort of crowd?

I need not have worried. A festive air suffused the studio lobby, like everybody felt as fortunate to be there as I did. For me personally, it was a lovely homecoming to recognized so many theater luminaries: Nike Doukas, Camille Saviola, Leo Marks, Angie Kim, to name just a few. Most thrillingly for me was getting to hobnob with the elegant and courtly Laural Meade, the playwright/provocateuse whose performance constructions I remember so fondly.

But the performance of Apollo. Brilliant. A thrill to recognize certain sections and motifs, which were experiments for Nancy during her Portland residency, now fully developed. And of course there were entirely new sections, one of which was deeply moving – something you don’t expect from intellectually layered work like this. I came away wishing to speed the clock up to the world premiere of the play, in January of 2009, when we’ll see all three parts performed together for the first time.

About 20 people stayed behind for the talkback I moderated, and the audience turned out to be warm, smart and supportive. Nancy's science advisor participated, and was cogent, humorous, sanguine. In him I could see the Sloan Foundation's vision at work -- Sloan seeks to put a public face on science and the scientists who seeks to advance human knowlesge, and they could hardly have found a better rep than Craig Peterson. In addition to being an engaging personality and a compelling speaker, the guy has the best title in the universe: Spacecraft Systems Engineer. That's his actual title at JPL. I was ready to beam up on the spot.

By the way, Apollo's premiere will be one of the linchpins of Portland’s first-ever citywide New Works Festival. Stayed tuned for details about that.