Not Your Father's Pirates of Penzance

Dear Messrs. W.S. Gilbert and Arthur Sullivan (deceased) --


We are writing to inform you that we here in Ashland are producing your seminal operetta "The Pirates of Penzance" for our 2011 Season. Since you are dead, we have deemed it appropriate to freely adapt your work and add new verses, a song from one of your other works, and snippets of popular music from the 120 years since the piece was first performed. We wanted to let you know that it is a huge hit with our audiences and is playing to sold out houses every night.

We hope this letter finds you well.

Yours sincerely,

The Oregon Shakespeare Festival

P.S. This reviewer loved it!

That's right, I said I loved it! It was a stupendously fun evening.  Yes, the tempos were too slow in spots and too fast in others ... Yes, the voices weren't legit (except for Mabel) ... Yes, they added dialogue, made cuts, reworked the ending, and quoted every musical style from "Porgy & Bess" to The Beatles to Public Enemy. But I adored every minute of it.

Why, you may ask, would a Gilbert & Sullivan traditionalist take this position? Because it was sharp, witty, and savvy -- that's why. And it's the norm here. The festival freely adapts plays from the Bard to Moliere all the time. Dramatic cuts and reimaginings are par for the course.

And to be fair, the voices were fine. I was led to believe by a Lamplighter board colleague of mine who saw the show earlier this summer that the actress playing Ruth (Robin Goodrin Nordli) was a disaster. She was perfectly fine. She was no Jean Ziaja or Katy Daniel, but she sang in tune and acted the heck out of the role, giving it a Scottish lilt.

Mabel (opera singer Khori Dastoor) was a lovely actress with a highly trained coloratura. Frederic (Eddie Lopez, who was wonderful in last season's "She Loves Me") had a fine Broadway tenor voice and a fine comic sensibility. The Pirate King (Michael Elich) showed off a muscular Broadway baritone and a dashing physicality. And Major General Stanley (David Kelly) was nimble and droll, especially in the tricky orphan/often dialogue sequence. His patter was perfectly acceptable.

So what's all the fuss about?

Well, they took liberties ... substantial liberties ... HUGE liberties!   An added song from "Ruddigore"; a longer pirate/cop fight scene; a gospel "Hail Poetry"; an interpolated line from The Beatles' "When I'm 64" in "Ah, leave me not to pine"; a cop rap.

And you know what? In the end, it's all OK.  Because the show rocked! The audience treated it like an Elton John concert. I hadn't heard this level of sustained applause in this theater before, and I've been coming here a long time.

And the technical touches were divine. During the (abbreviated) overture, a team of puppeteers entered the theater with paper seagulls attached to long poles. The gulls wheeled above the audience in graceful circles. Later on, puppet dolphins cavorted across the stage. During "Climbing Over Rocky Mountain," these same tuxedo-clad players assisted the small but potent ladies ensemble by moving individual rocks into position for them to clamber over. Ruth and Frederic's duet was performed in a moving rowboat, piloted by the puppeteer crew. This was inventive and unique stuff ... and very entertaining.

The knock against Ashland's musical forays in the past have been that the voices aren't that trained. But the direction has always been flawless. They seem to have ameliorated the vocal talent issue. There were no glaringly bad voices here.

And voice quality aside, to my mind this was actually a shot in the arm for companies like my own dear Lamplighters Music Theater that specialize in G&S. For the traditional aspects of this show were not always wittier or more clever than our attempts at the material. In point of fact, ours were funnier. It was in the non-traditional arena where the wizards at OSF shone brighter than we poor mortals. I take heart in that.

So, think of it as a big Gala and move on!

Yours sincerely,

A fan

I Am Thy Father's Ghost

I walked into the Oregon Shakespeare Festival's New Theater on Wednesday afternoon for a new play called "Ghost Light" and promptly and completely fell into my own past. For two hours or so I walked the hallways of my personal experience and relived a chapter in history that shaped my early twenties.

"Ghost Light" is a kind of post-modern memory play which attempts to put into perspective the experience of Jonathan Moscone, whose father San Francisco Mayor George Moscone was assassinated in 1978 when Jon was only 14. Moscone is now the artistic director at the California Shakespeare Festival. He devised the play with Berkeley Repertory Theater's Tony Taccone. Taccone wrote the play; Moscone directed this production.

A little background. I was a freshman at UC Berkeley in the fall of 1978. Jon's elder sister, Rebecca, was a classmate of mine and we shared a chemistry class, though I didn't know her well. I spent the night of Nov. 27 glued to the television set in my apartment, just like hundreds of thousands of others. The voice of then-Supervisor Dianne Feinstein announcing the news to a shocked City Hall press corps still rings in my head.

George Moscone was a favorite in our household. Though we lived in Sausalito, we felt San Francisco was our adoptive home. His politics were our politics. I had heard of Harvey Milk but not noted his career to this point. For several weeks the entire Bay Area grieved. There was a televised funeral, endless newspaper tributes, and a haunting candlelight march.

When the lights went down at the start of the play, the set and several TV screens came alive with projected images from that memorable day. As Feinstein spoke, the memories came rushing back and tears sprang to my eyes. I am the audience for this play, I thought.

Christopher Liam Moore played Jon in a rare and touching performance. Pulling together the dual aspects of a man both haunted by his past and unconsciously striving to discover his future, Moore presented the picture of a son reaching out to touch the ghost of his father. Aptly, when the play opens we find that Jon is directing a troubled production of "Hamlet" in which he has become hung up on how to depict the character of the ghost of Hamlet's father. The parallels begin to coalesce and feed each other, drawing Jon into an artistic and personal crisis.

His perceptions have been further confused by a series of vivid dreams featuring three mysterious figures: a guardian angel named Mister, who approaches him as a boy after his father's death; an avatar for a potential lover he met online who seems to be trying to protect him from something; and a shadowy, dangerous authority figure dressed as a prison guard who wants to give him a message that someone is coming ... make ready, make straight!

The play is lifted up by compelling performances by the always excellent Robynn Rodriguez as Jon's soulful and grounded best friend, Louise; Derrick Lee Weeden's ethereal Mister; and the fearful aspect of Bill Geisslinger as the Prison Guard. Weeden brings an otherworldly floating quality to his scenes, as he escorts 14-year-old Jon (a brave Tyler James Myers) on a journey of frustrating discovery ... from psychiatrist office, to funeral, to wake, to the afterlife. Geisslinger's body language alone would be worth the price of admission. His ominous presence dominates the action and the mystery he represents adds a chill to the proceedings. And best of all, at the end of a searing scene with Jon where the Moscone family history is torn apart and sewn back together a stitch at a time, he leaves that character behind and returns to the stage as Jon's father. With no words, much like the ghost of Hamlet's father at some junctures, Geisslinger uses effortless body language to make George Moscone live again. His simple choices -- a hand slipped into a hip pocket; an easy gait as he climbs the steps to City Hall -- brought tears to my eyes ... and still does!

Other fine performances include Danforth Comins as Loverboy, the avatar for Jon's pathetic real-world Internet date Basil (Ted Deasy), and Peter Frechette in the dual role of a trendy Film Director (who may or may not have been based on Gus Van Sant, director of "Milk") and Austin, Jon's politically minded friend.

The set was wonderful, melding Jon's apartment with the columns and grandeur of City Hall. Great use was made of television and projected images, as well. There were episodes of "I Love Lucy," a paranormal cable TV show, and a jaw-dropping scene from "The Golden Girls." And the three-quarter thrust brought the audience right on top of the action. But I must give a special round of applause here to the props department, who managed to find or recreate a Young Man's Fancy garment bag for this show. If you are of a certain age and you grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area, you got your first suit at Young Man's Fancy on California Street. I was stunned when I caught a glimpse of it. My god, the detail!

It may not be fair but I must say that I wasn't a big fan of Moore prior to this. His Malvolio in last season's flawed "Twelfth Night" was not my favorite. But his performance in this stunning new play -- one of heart, humor, and honesty -- has won me over!

I won't soon forget it!

A Rave By Any Other Name

When planning my visit to the Oregon Shakespeare Festival this season, I wasn't sure I wanted to see the latest offering in the so-called Henriad history play cycle. Last season's "Henry IV, Part 1" was marked by many fine performances but the direction was fairly traditional. Did I want a repeat of that experience? So I decided to rush it if tickets were still available on the day of the show. Suffice it to say that "Henry IV, Part 2" was a terrific evening of theater and perhaps the hidden treasure at Ashland this year.

The play was framed almost cinematically, like a chapter in an epic movie saga. There were "Scenes From Part 1" presented in a series of dramatically staged tableaus, accompanied by a thrilling drumbeat; a Prologue featuring a modern-day "Presenter," a trickster-like character aptly named Rumor, who sets the scene for the confusion that ran rampant after the battles in Part 1 were ended; and even a playful "Coming Attractions" sequence at evening's end. But more on that later!

The star of this show was Michael Winters as Sir John Falstaff. I can't say enough about this performance. Last season, the wonderful David Kelly played the role and even though I thought his approach was justified, it was so mired in the fat knight's disgusting manner that I didn't care or sympathize with him much. That may have been the goal, but I really want to like Sir John despite his faults. Winters, however, was simply born to play this part. He wore it like a comfortable - if rumpled - suit of clothes. A signature performance and a delight to watch!

We are supposed to feel Falstaff's pain in this play. It's all about age and remembrance. Sir John is feeling his years getting shorter, yet he proclaims to all that will listen that you are only as young as you feel ... and he feels fine, thank you very much. He is given a young page by Prince Hal, a reminder of his youth; he tarries with a young but fallen girl, Doll Tearsheet, who loves him for his alehouse bravado; and he endures the reminiscences of a dottering old schoolmate who has become a sedate and boring country squire. But he has staked his entire being on Prince Hal becoming king and carrying him to court in glory on his ale-sodden coattails. Winters plays these notes with wit, reticence, and an odd sort of grace. He moves like a man half his age. It's a kind of effortless dance -- but with gout!

But Prince Hal (John Tufts) has been evolving. He still lingers with the London tavern crowd in Eastcheap, even after his victories on the field of battle in part 1. But he has gained a certain nascent maturity. He knows the day is coming when he will have to take responsibility and succeed his father, who lies gravely ill. Tufts once again proves that he has taken the reins here at Ashland. He is a wonderful actor to watch, immersing himself in the duality that lies within the role. He even achieves something I thought I would never see. I have written before that I find the roles portrayed by the deaf actor Howie Seago, though well performed, a distraction from the play at hand. Language is what Shakespeare is all about, so why abandon it? Well, I am glad to say that at least in this case I was wrong. The scenes between Tufts and Seago's Ned Poins sparkled this time around. Their close friendship was so evident and natural that the sign language disappeared.

Also, of note, Tufts was simply brilliant in his scenes with Richard Howard as the dying Henry. Howard once again lent a wonderful quality of frailty and weariness to the role. Henry's other son John (Daisuke Tsuji) has proven himself on the field of battle in a victory against the resurgent rebels, providing the king with a stark contrast to his wayward son Hal. But in a key scene Hal, thinking his father lies dead, is torn by emotion and reveals that he indeed knows what is required of him and how much he loves his father. Howard's quiet strength in this scene is palpable.

Also of note in this cast is the veteran James Edmondson, just terrific as Justice Shallow, the dottering country squire. His comic moments with Michael J. Hume (as his cousin Silence) at the top of Act 2, when the scene shifts to the countryside, were textbook examples of how to steal a scene with style. Edmondson is my touchstone at the festival, the lone actor who was here 36 years ago when I first arrived. The pair had the audience in the palm of their hand, and Hume used a simple flyswatter to great comic effect.

Other notable cast contributions included Nell Geisslinger as a lively and sweet Doll Tearsheet; Kimberly Scott as a malleable Mistress Quickly (who gave a hilarious master class on how to make the most of the word "swaggerer"); Jack Willis as a monochromatic, no-nonsense Chief Justice who runs afoul of Falstaff and Hal, but receives a surprising offer of friendship and counsel from the new king; Rodney Gardiner, who personified different aspects of "Rumor" throughout the action of the play, all the while sporting a Rolling Stones T-shirt; and the comic talents of Brent Hinkley, Mark Bedard, Daisuke Tsuji, and Eddie Lopez, who made the ensemble scenes shine.

At the end, the stark magnificence of the set came into play, with a huge staircase lumbering forward for the coronation of Henry V, strewn with an explosion of golden streamers. It provides quite a majestic backdrop for Hal's denial of Falstaff. But the end also reveals a weakness of the play for modern audiences. Its final scene portends the coming war with France. The director Lisa Peterson solves this in a unique and irresistibly fun way. She brings the cast back on stage and Falstaff provides an epilogue in which the company gives a preview of what awaits the audience in the "next chapter." They present snippets of thrilling dialogue and the news that Falstaff meets his end. But he is still here for now, so he is going to dance while he can. He does so, and his nimble country jig turns into a thumping rave beat that consumes the whole company, with Hal holding his crown aloft in celebration as a sea of hands strive to touch it!

Wow! I can't wait for the next episode!!