Brief thoughts on four shows I've seen these past two weekends

In recent weeks I've had the opportunity to catch four shows around town, but given my schedule recently, I haven't had much time to write about them. (My next post in a day or two will expand on that a bit.) And so while I have few minutes to spare today, here are some short notes about each of them, arranged in the order in which I viewed them:

Not so odd: Tipping Point does Simon well

As I believe I've said in at least one prior post, the most consistent producer of quality shows is Northville's Tipping Point Theatre.

Under the leadership of James Kuhl, everyone you encounter there is friendly and engaging - even the volunteer ushers who direct you to your seats.

But equally of importance, Kuhl and his team know their audience, and as such, they deliver to them the types of shows they enjoy with production values that rank among the best the industry has to offer.

Its current show is no different. With that said, however, I'm not a fan of "The Odd Couple (female version)."

When Neil Simon's original "Neil Simon" debuted in 1965, it examined something that was quite rare up till then: two middle-aged straight guys living together. Social mores at the time looked suspiciously at two men in such an arrangement, with an assumption that the two must be gay. (An historical note for my younger readers: Being labeled as gay was seen as a terrible, horrible, dirty thing back then, which meant most gay men were deeply and securely hidden in the closet. Men were often fired and harassed - or even arrested - for nothing more than a passing suspicion.) And so Simon had some fun with his play, exploring male relationships and their ways of bonding. Stereotypes, too, were part of the equation, as Oscar was a butch sportswriter and Felix was a "light in his loafers" (to use an old expression) news writer.

The show enjoyed great success, and 20 years and a popular TV series later, it spawned the female version.

Why, I don't understand. For starters, social dynamics at the time were different for women than men. (Both of my grandmothers took in borders, for example, and no one gave it a second thought.) And to me it seemed to be unoriginal and not very creative for a celebrated playwright of his caliber.

Nevertheless, the bazillionaire's instincts proved better than mine, and the play has been a popular staple off theaters everywhere ever since.

So too were Kuhl's instincts, as tickets have been flying out of the box office, with many (or most) performances totally sold out.

Which only proves one thing: What do I know!

I do know a slick, well-produced production when I see one, however, and that's exactly what's on the Tipping Point stage through March 6.

Fine direction by Lynn Wilde Concannon briskly moves the story along, while the entire cast brings energy and fun to their roles. (People around me a few weeks ago especially loved Sonja Marquis' scene changes.) And Patrick Loos and Nick Yocum make a delightful team as the Latino neighbors. But kudos to Katherine Banks and Dani Cochrane as Florence and Olive, respectively, for making me believe Simon's time wasn't wasted in crafting this update.

The Bottom Line: I really did have a great time, probably the best I've had in all the times I've seen productions of this script.

Want to see what other critics thought about the show?

David Kiley, EncoreMichigan.com

Patty Nolan, Examiner.com

Daniel Skora, It's All Theatre

John Monaghan, Detroit Free Press

The show is now closed. For more information about the production: CLICK HERE

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Yes, Butler did it (so to speak)

One of the many things I love about the Detroit Repertory Theatre is its emphasis on producing new works - whether as a world premiere or something that's new to Michigan. And as a history nut, I especially love it when the Rep stages a show that has its roots in a real life incident.

It's current show, "Butler," is both.

Based on the true story of a runaway slave who shows up at Virginia's Fort Monroe near the start of the Civil War asking for asylum, director Barbara Busby crafts a production that's both funny and engaging.

It also features two seasoned pros as adversaries Major General Benjamin Butler and Major John B. Cary: Todd Hissong and Robert Grossman, respectively. Butler is an inexperienced officer, having recently earned his commission after practicing law and serving as a state legislator in Massachusetts. His counterpart, Cary, is a teacher-turned-Confederate officer, and the two tangle over what do with Shepard Mallory.

It's a fascinating story that had repercussions for slaves throughout the area, to which playwright Richard Strand hews quite closely. (Do the research; it's quite a tale!)

To watch Hissong and Grossman create such strong, unique characters is quite fun. And Peter Podalski as the "by-the-rules" Lt. Kelly, has many fine moments. (The woman behind me kept commenting on Podalski's eyes. Catch the show to see what she means; his expressions are priceless.)

But I was particularly impressed with Christian Williams as Shepard Mallory. A relative newcomer to the professional stage, Williams must make an unlikable character likable, which is not an easy task to achieve. Yet that's exactly what he does. And he does so while working alongside two accomplished veterans of the local stage without looking the least bit intimidated. That alone is worthy of acknowledgment!

The Bottom Line: I highly recommend the show!

Want to see what other critics thought of the show?

David Kiley, EncoreMichigan.com

John Monaghan, Detroit Free Press

"Butler" runs through March 13. For more information about the production, CLICK HERE

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Scary futures can be fun indeed

I love it when theaters take risks - especially the smaller theaters that have tiny budgets and limited resources, but instead are gifted with enormous creativity. I also love it when they accept the challenge and conquer it through careful planning and meticulous craftsmanship. And I love it even more when those risks are handsomely rewarded by stellar reviews and sold out houses.

Such was the case with Puzzle Piece Theatre's decision to stage "R.U.R.," a rarely performed script by Czech author Karel Capek first presented in 1921 that explores a question frequently addressed by science fiction writers throughout the 20th century: What would be the fate of man should artificial life forms become sentient?

For director D.B. Schroeder, the question must have been: How do I take a "fantastic (but somewhat dated) melodrama" with a large cast (including six robots) and squeeze it into a somewhat tight black box performance space and make it relevant to today's audiences?

It was a heavy task to be sure, yet one he and his team accomplished quite well.

From the moment I walked into the performance space I was immersed into a possible future in which lifelike, unthinking robots (or androids, as we refer to them today) are tasked with doing our heavy work. And that's exactly what was happening around me as I entered the space: Robots Marius (Stebert Davenport), Sulla (Anna Marck) and Radius (Joshua Daniel Palmer) silently and methodically went about clearing the stage.

The three performed their work with great precision, with every movement carefully drawn - and with focused eyes that never wandered. (They even navigated around unsuspecting patrons who didn't immediately realize what was happening around them - and they did so without any unnecessary blinks of the eye or noticeable irritation.)

This set the tone, quite frankly, for what was to come: a well-played melodrama that flowed like clockwork. Even the music used throughout the production perfectly underscored the plot as it unfolded.

The Bottom Line: So despite the script's dark message, "R.U.R" was indeed a fun and enjoyable night at the theater. Risks can indeed pay off, and here's proof!

Want to see what other critics thought of the show?

Martin F. Kohn, EncoreMichigan.com

John Monaghan, Detroit Free Press

Patty Nolan, Examiner.com

Daniel Skora, It's All Theatre

"R.U.R." is now closed. For more information about Puzzle Piece Theatre: CLICK HERE

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'You'll rue the day' you missed 'Mr. Burns, a post-electric play'

About a week ago I heard from a very excited Vanessa Sawson who had just seen "Mr. Burns, a post-electric play" at The Ringwald Theatre in Ferndale. To say that she loved it would be an understatement. "(It) was incredible," she exclaimed. "I have to see it again." And then she asked me to join her at last night's performance. How could I refuse? Her enthusiasm was infectious. (That, too, is an understatement.)

So there I was, sitting next to her, waiting for the show to begin. She was itching to talk about it, but wouldn't. "You have to see it for yourself," she bubbled. Her excitement was palpable.

And now I know why.

What I experienced, though, is hard to explain. (It takes a while to digest.) All I know for sure is that I'll never see Bart Simpson quite the same way ever again, thanks to a heart-choking final act with Dyan Bailey playing America's favorite young rebel.

Imagine, if you will, the very near future. A global catastrophe has occurred, and the world we knew no longer exists. Instead, survivors roam the forests and streets in search of supplies. Death and fear are everywhere. But since there is safety in numbers, small, tight-knit groups form for mutual survival. For one such group, their entertainment is recalling their favorite episodes from the hit TV series "The Simpsons" - most notably, the one entitled "Cape Feare."

The episode, which originally aired on Fox in 1993, is among the favorites of series aficionados - and rightfully so, as it's a parody of the movie "Cape Fear" and is filled with more cultural references than one can possibly find on their own. And that gives the playwright (and actors) plenty of things to work with as the story moves through three very different acts (the third of which is a rather dark musical) and across 82 years.

But why "The Simpsons" as the starting point of the script, you might wonder?

In a 2013 interview published in the Gothamist, playwright Anne Washburn told John Del Signore that the idea for the play was something she had had for a long time - "to take a TV show and push it past the apocalypse and see what happened to it." Her initial inclination was to use "Friends," "Cheers" or "MASH" - or "any show that had had a long term viewership and was much beloved and cheerful."

But then she settled on "The Simpsons," which is now in its 27th season and is American television's longest-running prime-time series. Her decision makes total sense, as the series is a cultural cornerstone that multiple generations are familiar with. And that means the plot she developed would have resonance and meaning for theatergoers young and not-so-young alike.

That certainly seemed the case at last night's performance. What's even more intriguing, though, was eavesdropping on (or participating in) conversations after the show, as patrons struggled to share their thoughts on what was likely an experience they didn't expect. If only I could have followed them to their cars or bars where they likely continued their conversations.

Because if they're like me, they're still not sure what the heck they experienced. I do know, however, that everyone in the room was intensely following the plot and focused on the action as it unfolded - even if they were unsure what was occurring. (At one particular point - following a very tense confrontation - not a sound could be heard throughout the audience as Brandy Joe Plambeck's Sam and Joel Mitchell's Gibson shared a powerful, poignant moment.)
Long-time readers know I love challenging, thought-provoking theater. As I continue to scratch my head in a mix of wonderment and bewilderment, there's one thing I know for sure about "Mr. Burns, a post-electric play": Director Joe Bailey and his team of artists and craftspeople took yet another risk and nailed it.

The Bottom Line: Although I'm still not sure what it was that I saw at The Ringwald, I do know that I loved it, thanks to excellent technical work and performances that will stick with you for quite a while.

Want to see what other critics thought of the play?

David Kiley, EncoreMichigan.com

Patty Nolan, Examiner.com

"Mr. Burns, a post-electric play" runs through March 14. For more information about the production: CLICK HERE

What a debut: Kickshaw kicks ass

New theaters seem to spring up like wild flowers; some wither almost immediately, while others enjoy a very long and fruitful existence. So when word first got out early last year that a new Equity theater was planned for Ann Arbor, I greeted the news with an equal mix of skepticism, interest and curiosity.

On the plus side, Kickshaw Theatre seemed to be a promising addition to the community. Founders Lynn Lammers and Julia Glander (and their management team) seemed to be taking a careful and deliberate approach to building their company, and since the women involved all enjoyed sterling reputations and noteworthy track records, their likelihood of creating a successful endeavor seemed far greater than many others that came (and disappeared) before them.

Plus, their stated goal - wanting to be known for "uncommon stories and stylistic daring" - intrigued me. (Pleasant memories of innovative shows staged at the long-defunct Zeitgeist Theatre and the early days of Performance Network came flooding back to me.)

But then I asked myself, "Is Ann Arbor able and willing to support yet another theater?" Are there enough patrons, donors and funders to go around, I wondered, when the town is already home to Performance Network, Theatre Nova, Arbor Opera, The Penny Seats and the University Musical Society? And the Ann Arbor Civic Theatre, The Brass Tacks Ensemble, and the various theater programs at the University of Michigan? And with the nearby Purple Rose Theatre and The Encore Musical Theatre soaking up dollars from the community?

Only time will tell, of course. But more on that later.

For its initial offering, Kickshaw chose "The Electric Baby," an odd-duck of a script that certainly meets the company's goal of telling unusual stories. Perfectly described in a press release as "a dark and fantastical comedy about sad endings, strange beginnings and the unlikely people that get you from one place to the next," playwright Stephanie Zadravec starts out by introducing the audience to what looks like a series of unrelated characters and random events. But the beauty of the script is how she weaves together a young, fourth-wall-breaking Romanian mother, a lottery ticket-loving Nigerian cab driver and two couples of differing ages and worldly experiences having a bad night into a powerful journey that questions the randomness of life and how the unexpected and unpredictable interactions of strangers can impact each other's lives and futures.

It's a unique script, to be sure, filled with folktales and legends and a baby that glows like the moon. It's also one that lesser directors could surely mess up in its transition to the stage - but not Lammers, who kept the show grounded and focused, tight and balanced. Right from the opening moments - which I'll discuss later - Lammers drew her audience into the story and never let them go.

And for good reason: Her eye for casting the appropriate actor for each role couldn't have been better.

This is a production in which every character was carefully drawn and fully realized, even when the playwright gave the artists little to work with. The result, then, were characters and situations we could relate to, even when the plot and specific circumstances might feel otherwise.

(How convincing were they, you might be wondering? The show opens with Natalia (the young Romanian immigrant and mother) talking to her baby. Played by the superb and always-delightful Vanessa Sawson, Natalia acknowledges our presence, asks us to turn off our cell phones, and strongly, but sweetly, in that all-knowing, motherly way, urges us to resist coughing during the play so that we don't irritate our neighbors. And guess what? Her request, recommendation, or perceived threat worked, as I don't recall a single cough throughout the entire performance. Even I stifled one out of fear of the repercussions...)

All-in-all, when you mix the fine performances by Sawson, Julia Glander, Peter Carey, William Bryson, Mary Dilworth and Michael Lopetrone (who plays three roles) with the excellent work of technical director Charlie Gaidica and his team of craftspeople, the result is one of the best opening productions by a new company I've ever seen.

So what does that mean long term?

If Kickshaw's opening production is any indication, the company has already accomplished two important things:

1. It has quickly staked out its niche within Southeast Michigan's professional theater community; and
2. It has already mastered the art of creating excellent, thought-provoking theater, something new companies often (if not usually) struggle with over the course of several shows.

With the recent demise of Performance Network, Kickshaw is now Ann Arbor's sole producer of Equity theater. (The CRLT Players at the University of Michigan also operates under an Equity contract, but it functions as an educational arm of the university for workshops and consultations.) And with Theatre Nova, the two are now the town's dominant non-profit, professional producers of live theater.

But there's still work to be done.

In this not-so-humble critic's opinion, what Kickshaw needs to do in order to become a permanent fixture in the community is to develop a broad and loyal group of patrons and donors that would enable the company to grow and prosper. But that won't happen without a permanent facility to call home.

As other theaters have learned the hard way over the past few decades, it's difficult to retain and build an audience when you move from one location to another for each show. People (and patrons) are creatures of habit; change is difficult - even for something as simple a concept as this. Although Kickshaw has been searching for a permanent facility for quite some time, that should be their primary focus before staging another show. Hoping and praying for a miracle - that your audience will follow you wherever you go - isn't the worth the risk when a great future looms before you.

 So welcome, Kickshaw, and congratulations on a great opening! I look forward to the exciting times ahead for you!

The Bottom Line: Although "The Electric Baby" is now closed, here are a handful of reviews for you to check out:

Jenn McKee's review: EncoreMichigan.com

Patty Nolan's review: Examiner.com

Daniel Skora's review: It's All Theatre

Enticing young people into the theater: How Slipstream is doing it

One of many things many (if not most) producers are struggling with today is this: How do we get young people into our theaters? As traditional audiences disappear - whether because of age, infirmities, death, relocation or other reason - seats are not being filled in equal numbers by the next generation of patrons.

Why that's so has many theories:

• The stories told by our theaters aren't of interest to a younger, more diverse audience;
• Theaters are clinging to traditional modes of communication instead of embracing social media, which is where young people today get their information;
• Young people in their 20s and 30s are busy with their lives - jobs, careers, marriage, children, etc. - and don't have time to attend theater; and
• Tickets cost too much.
  

Each - or any combination thereof - is likely true, at least in part. But in my humble opinion, the problem is much deeper than any of them.

As I've said in prior posts, columns, interviews and personal discussions, the problem stretches back to the American educational system that - for the most part - no longer values the arts, particularly live theater. As such, children are not being exposed at an early age to the magic of this unique art form and the memories it creates. Therefore, they develop no taste for it, which further means they won't seek it out when they become adult consumers in charge of their own entertainment options.

It's been my experience that when you ask people ages 50 and above what drew them to either attend or work in the theater, most say it was their exposure to it while they were growing up. In my case, that's certainly true - and my story is similar to what countless others have told me.

Back when I was in grade school (we're talking about the early-to-mid 1960s here; yes, I'm a dinosaur), it was common for schools to take students on field trips to see plays that somehow tied into the curriculum. In Detroit, it was popular for teachers to take their students to the Detroit Institute of Arts or Greenfield Village for plays such as "Young Thomas Edison" or another on Abe Lincoln.

Later, as school budgets tightened, transportation became far too expensive and theaters stopped providing such opportunities, companies popped up to take shows into the schools. (I spent about 26 years in that business, from acting to producing to consulting.) But even that had its ups and downs, as budgets further tightened, show prices went up, and curriculum requirements left little time for "entertainment."

Even the opportunities to take kids to weekend performances disappeared, as parents and families changed their priorities, and fewer theaters, recreation centers and libraries offered family-friendly theater programs to their patrons.

In other words, young people have experienced the wonderment of live theater far less in recent decades than they used to in previous times. And that's having a serious impact on the industry.

Producers across the industry are struggling to respond, some more successfully than others. But so far, there's no magic formula that seems to work for everyone.

Meanwhile, longtime patrons continue to disappear. And the question remains: Who will producers get to replace them?

Into the mix comes Slipstream

Not every theater is struggling with an aging audience, of course. Improv and original comedies, for example, seem to attract a younger crowd. So do certain plays and musicals. ("Rent" - among the handful shows I avoid for various reasons - is especially popular.)

But one theater has particularly impressed me with its efforts to reach out to and draw in young audiences to its plays.

Ferndale-based Slipstream Theatre Initiative has a mission statement that clearly outlines its goal: to create original works and re-imagine classics for a current-minded audience. And since its launch in 2014, it has certainly accomplished what it set out to do.

It helps, of course, that the leadership of Slipstream is part of the generation they are trying to reach. But it's the brilliance of their work both on stage and behind the scenes that should have other producers sit up and take notice.

With an understanding that the attention span of its target market is short and their basic level of appreciation of classic works is likely small to non-existent, Slipstream will take a script by Shakespeare, for example, and strip it to its essentials. Gone, then, are various subplots and characters; what's left is tweaked and adjusted to help audiences comprehend the story. And then around the plot is wrapped an engaging concept designed to pull theatergoers into the action.

Add to that an aggressive campaign on social media, and what do you get? An intimate performance space that's more often than not filled with teenagers and young adults.

I observed that first hand last fall with Slipstream's 80-minute (or so) production of "Twelfth Night." There I was, likely the elder statesman in the audience. Next to me was likely the youngest, a young man around 16 years of age. Experiencing "Twelfth Night" with him was quite a treat, as his excitement was palpable and his enthusiasm was infectious. Like other young people around me, his focus on the action never wavered, and he bubbled with joy when the show was over.

So what made this particular production speak to its young audience? I suspect it was the judicious editing mixed with an innovative concept that was carried throughout the production by an energetic and youthful cast. Since the actors were having a blast, so too did the audience. (Read Martin F. Kohn's excellent review HERE.) And unlike some productions of Shakespeare I've seen foisted upon an unsuspecting audience, it was obvious everyone in the cast understood the meaning of their lines - which makes a major difference in whether or not an audience can follow the story.

Slipstream's approach works on other types of productions, as well. And depending on the subject matter, patrons may find themselves sitting among a wide range of theatergoers.

A prime example of this is its current production of "Hedda Gabler," also a trimmed down, 80-minute affair. With a unique approach to the title character, the production succeeds quite nicely thanks to a clear focus and tight execution by its actors and director. And who was sitting in the audience with me at this production? An interesting mix, I must say: primarily women in their 30s, 40s and 50s, several of whom were mothers with their daughters. (Since my thoughts about "Hedda" are in total agreement with critic Jenn McKee who reviewed it for EncoreMichigan.com, I won't say more about it - you can read her superb review HERE - but I strongly recommend it to those who love innovative interpretations of classic theater.)

Even a modern-day coming-of-age story can get the Slipstream treatment. In "BFs!" by critic Frank Anthony Polito, two teenage boys discover their sexuality in the 1980s - and guess what? Director (and co-founding artistic director) Bailey Boudreau hired two age-appropriate actors to play the roles, and then he allowed them the intimacy in which to present their story. My surprise on the night I attended? That the audience was a mix of gay and straight couples, young and not-so-young, and a 30-something couple who walked in not knowing a thing about the subject matter, but showed up because they'd heard such good things about the company. Based upon their reactions, I suspect they'll be back. (Here's what I wrote about the show last September.)

So what's the lesson?

While what works for one theater may not work for another - and there's a host of reasons why that is - Slipstream Theatre Initiative has excelled at developing shows that appeal to young people, and their efforts to reach them via social media have been quite successful. That their appeal also reaches into a much broader demographic of theatergoer is an added bonus, which gives them a solid customer base upon which to build a strong and long-term existence.

But times and tastes change. So the questions becomes these: Is Boudreau and his team nimble enough to respond to the ever-morphing fickleness of the marketplace? Will their quality remain high? Will they eventually run out of unique ideas upon which to build their shows?

The fact that Boudreau and company are willing to experiment and take risks - and are small enough to do so without jeopardizing vast sums of investment dollars - is refreshing. And that they've been rewarded with both glowing reviews and their desired customer base are signs Slipstream is on the right path.

Throughout my 40-plus years in and around the industry, I've seen the formation of many a new theater company that showed great promise. Some quickly failed and disappeared, while others took root and prospered. We're currently in an era in which several exciting new companies have appeared, all with different goals and philosophies. Several seem to have what it takes to run the long race.

With insightful planning, judicious budgeting and carefully managed growth, I suspect Slipstream Theatre Initiative will be among them.

The bottom line: There are only three performances of "Hedda Gabler" left. Click HERE for complete schedule information.

He is woman - and the audience roared

"I knew it was him. But I didn't see him."

The "him" veteran actress Henrietta Hermelin was referring to was Joe Bailey, whose performance we were discussing last night after the closing performance of "I'll Eat You Last: A Chat With Sue Mengers" at the The Ringwald Theatre. And the major compliment she gave him was 100-percent correct.

Joe, you see - billed only as J. Bailey in the program to further the illusion - played Sue Mengers, Hollywood's most powerful agent during the late 1960s through the early '80s. The well-researched script by John Logan takes place in 1981 at a pivotal point in the downswing of her career, on the night she is expecting a call from her number one client, Barbra Streisand. Streisand, you see, has just left Sue for another agency, and the super-agent, a longtime friend, wants to know why.

And so the show opens with the caftan-clad Sue parked on her couch, conversing with friends (the audience) while anticipating a call she does and does not want to receive. There she remains for the next 80 minutes or so, regaling us with juicy tidbits of her long and successful career - with us hanging on to each and every delicious morsel she tosses our way.

The concept of Joe wearing a dress is nothing new, of course; many of The Ringwald's most popular shows over the past eight years have featured him thusly clad. But here's what's different: Previous appearances in feminine attire have been in spoofs and satires, or in gender-bending productions in which the winks and nods between actor and audience acknowledge we're all in on the joke.

But that's not the case with "I'll Eat You Last." Logan's one-woman script is just that: a script written for a woman to portray its protagonist. (Its original run on Broadway featured Bette Midler as Sue.) And so with director Jamie Richards guiding from behind the scenes, Joe's goal was to develop a fully realized and realistic woman, thereby creating a believable character that would do justice to both the role and the person upon whom it is based.

To say he achieved his goal would be a major understatement.

As someone who has followed Joe's career since we first met at an interview more than a dozen years ago, it's safe for me to say that Joe sits among the "A-List" of actors whose work appears on area stages, having earned 13 Wilde Awards nominations since 2007. (He's tied for fourth place in total nominations received over the course of the awards' history.)

But here's what made this performance stand out: If you didn't know J. Bailey was a man, you would have believed a woman lived underneath the wig and makeup. And since Sue's legendary size kept her mostly home bound later in life, Joe had to keep us totally engaged while never leaving the couch.

Which he did. (He had a similar Herculean task earlier this season in "The Whale," a co-production with the UDM Theatre Company, which I thought couldn't be topped - until now.)

From start to finish, Joe's superb storytelling skills and creative instincts kept us hanging on Sue's every word. Based on my research, he seems to have fully grasped her colorful, larger-than-life personality - which he brought to life with carefully executed gestures and facial expressions. Every movement, every line and every expression - no matter how small or seemingly insignificant - was thoughtfully planned, fitting the character like a tight glove. As a result, we felt Sue's every emotion  - and by show's end, we wished our visit would last longer. Much longer.

So, yes: Henrietta's comment was correct. We didn't see Joe in the role; we only saw Sue. And that's a testament to the excellent work of Joe Bailey.

The Bottom Line: Rumor has it that "I'll Eat You Last" might return for a short run sometime soon. Keep watching EncoreMichigan.com for details - and then catch it if you can for an amazing evening of live theater!

How'd she do it? (Tying up loose ends, Part 2)

(This is the second of two commentaries in which the cranky critic catches up on shows he attended this past December, but for various reasons didn't get around to writing about till now. He hopes to do better in 2016.)

It was an unofficial team-up.

Its backstory was a long time in the making. Since its establishment in 1997, Hamtramck's Planet Ant Theatre has had a succession of artistic directors, each of whom had (or, currently, has) a unique vision for the popular venue. And since its founding in 2000, The Abreact has produced its shows in a handful of performance spaces throughout the Downtown, Greektown and Corktown neighborhoods of Detroit. Both, at times, shared similar visions, and it wasn't unusual to find some of the same artists working at both places.

So when the powers-that-be at The Abreact decided last year it was time to leave its most recent home and look for a new location, it made total sense that artistic director Chuck Reynolds would use his downtime to direct a show at Planet Ant. It also didn't surprise me that the show would feel equally at home at Planet Ant as it would have on the stage of The Abreact - and that many of the actors would be familiar to longtime patrons of each theater.

In short, "Orson's Shadow" had the vibe of an Abreact production and a Planet Ant production, and the result was one of my most favorite shows so far this season.

In his review of the play for EncoreMichigan.com, critic Frank Anthony Polito described "Orson’s Shadow" as "the behind-the-scene story of the time when Orson Welles took on the challenge of directing Sir Laurence Oliver and his soon-to-be bride Joan Plowright in a production of Ionesco’s 'Rhinoceros' in London’s West End in 1960. As one might imagine, the clashing of egos between Welles and Olivier is enough fodder to make for a compelling drama. Throw in Olivier’s fanatical actress wife, a chain-smoking theater reviewer, and a stoic stagehand and the most serious of scenarios becomes a laugh-riot."

He couldn't have summarized it better.

Such a script has plenty of pitfalls, however, since its main characters are - or were - familiar faces to the movie-going public. How do you get audiences to shake their memories of Welles and Olivier? Can any local actor believably fill their costumes?

Yes, and Reynolds pulled it off because of tight, intense directing and a team of skilled actors who fully invested themselves in their roles.

Few actors came to mind for the role of Welles when Chuck first told me about the show many, many months ago - and the one whom I first thought of indeed played the character. Joel Mitchell dominates whatever stage he crosses - as did Welles - so while little physical similarities exist between the two, Mitchell had no problem erasing the image of the larger-than-life Welles from my mind; the power of his performance left no doubt who he was.

I was a bit concerned about the choice for Olivier, however. While the other actors were age-appropriate for their roles, handsome Jonathan Davidson was much too young. But here's yet another case of a young actor stepping up to the challenge, as Davidson - with theatrical magic to add years to his look - kept up with Mitchell (which is not an easy task) and convinced me Reynold's choice was a solid one.

Fine performances were also given by the always excellent Dax Anderson as the theater critic, TM Rawlins as Vivian Leigh, and Bryan Spangler as the Irish stagehand.

In all honesty, though, much of my attention was focused on Kelly Rossi, whose Joan Plowright quietly, but strongly maintained control of the men around her. Most impressive was a segment in which she was sitting mere inches from - and looking stoically towards, but not directly at - the audience. From what I could tell - and I watched closely - her focus never wavered, never once accidentally making eye contact with anyone sitting near her. Nor did her eyes ever dart away, even for a second. How she did that, I'll never know.

What helped, I'm sure, was the blanket of quietness and calm that had descended upon the audience as they sat riveted to the action unfolding before them. The intimacy of the space and our desire to focus on the story brought us into the action as unseen participants. Rarely was a cough or a candy wrapper heard from the utterance of the first line to the very last.

That, my dear readers, is a sign of an excellent production!

CLICK HERE to read the review from EncoreMichigan.com

CLICK HERE to read John Monaghan's review in the Detroit Free Press

And then there were none...

History was made last week with the downsizing of journalist Jenn McKee from her job at The Ann Arbor News. Part of the MLive media empire here in Michigan, Jenn was one of 29 content providers from across the state to lose their jobs - including, it's rumored, Jeffrey Kaczmarczak of The Grand Rapids Press. And that means - to the best of my knowledge - there are no longer any experienced staff journalists at a major city newspaper anywhere in the state covering live theater as their primary beat.

Think about that for minute.

If theater is to get any coverage at all from the state's daily newspapers (which, yes, is a misnomer these days due to publishing cutbacks, but you get the point), it will be by freelance writers. When space and budgets permit, of course.

And since theaters are not significant purchasers of advertising in these publications, guess what that means?

So why did Jenn get laid off, you might be wondering? Trust me: it's not because of the quality of her work.

In her time at the paper, Jenn grew into becoming a trusted voice and fearless arts advocate, whose work was appreciated - even by those who sometimes disagreed with her. (The sign of a good critic is one who says what she believes and doesn't back down for fear of a backlash from vocal opposition. And that certainly describes Jenn, who sometimes took a beating, but didn't allow it to intimidate her from doing her job to the best of her ability!)

The reason for her departure, then, can be summed up in one word - a word that dominates discussions throughout the media here and elsewhere: clicks.

Before we chat about clicks, however, let's step into the WABAC Machine to get some historical perspective on the situation.

(Remember, though: What I'm about to lay out is a very basic description of the newspaper/media business as it existed in the 20th and early 21st centuries. As such, there are exceptions to every rule, and the devil is always in the details!)

How we got to where we are today

Back in the good ol' days before many of my readers were born, pretty much every major city in America had at least two daily newspapers - often more. (Detroit had three when I was young, and in earlier times, a few more. But I digress.) These papers were - more often than not in the beginning - locally owned and managed, with the owners having deep business and/or political roots within the communities they served.

They were also a highly competitive bunch, always looking for ways to build their circulation - which meant they offered their readers a wide variety of content in order to appeal to the broadest range of interests as possible. (The business of signing up comic strips was especially cutthroat, for example!)

As a result, covering arts and culture were very important to their publishing plans. So much so, that many papers had staff journalists who specialized in music, opera, fine arts and theater - often with multiple critics covering the same discipline. And many spent decades in their position, honing their craft and building solid reputations for their work. (Lawrence DeVine, for example, spent 30 years as a theater critic for the Detroit Free Press; he retired in 1998.)

But times and technologies change.

Although radio and television nibbled away at their circulation and advertising dollars - thanks in part to the expansion of  local and national TV newscasts from 15-minute shows to 30 and beyond -  the three media co-existed side by side rather peacefully for many years. (One reason for that was the limited number of broadcast outlets in each market. Up until the mid to late '60s, most markets had only three TV stations to choose from - not including an "educational station," which in the pre-PBS days was often affiliated with a school district . We in Detroit had four, thanks to Windsor's CKLW, plus the non-commercial WTVS, which early on was programmed by the Detroit Public Schools and the Archdiocese of Detroit.)

As such, the advertising "pie" remained fairly consistent for many years. That is, until the expansion of UHF and FM stations caused a shift to where advertising dollars were allocated.

But the biggest changes were yet to come.

Beginning with the rise of radio in the late 1920s and early '30s, much public debate centered around the concept of "public interest" - that is, what is the role of the broadcaster (and the media in general) when it comes to serving the best interests of the public. After much debate and lobbying - nothing changes much, you see - the newly instituted Federal Communications Commission declared in 1934 that "it would not be in the public’s interest for a single entity to hold more than one broadcast license in the same community." Why? Because "(t)he view was that the public would benefit from a diverse array of owners because it would lead to a diverse array of program and service viewpoints."

In the ensuing decades, ownership rules were modified multiple times - eventually limiting the number of broadcast stations an entity could own. And newspapers were prohibited from owning a broadcast station in its market. (That 1975 law forced The Detroit News to divest itself of what was then WWJ-TV, for example.)

As such, robust competition was the rule of the day. And that meant that by limiting ownership in major markets, a multitude of voices would be heard.

That all changed, however, beginning in 1985 when fervor over media deregulation hit Capitol Hill and, later that decade, with the introduction of the World Wide Web, which helped expand our access to faraway media resources. Add to the already volatile mix the rise of commercial cable television (which began in 1950 and slowly morphed into the behemoth it is today), and what was once a fairly stable and profitable industry was primed for a major shakeup - which happened in 1996, when new FCC ownership rules blew the doors and windows wide open, ultimately allowing a handful of mega-companies to scoop up media outlets across the country.

Now, few voices are heard. And the economic model that served the industry - and us - rather well was forever shattered.

Media basics in the twenty teens

So what's all this have to do with Jenn's job disappearing, you're likely wondering? Keep reading.

With more and more media outlets and online publications fighting for a limited pool of advertising dollars - and a younger generation that avoids newspapers like the plague - times are tough for newspaper publishers all over the country, including here in Michigan.

Today, the Detroit Free Press and Detroit News operate under a federally approved Joint Operating Agreement, and both have seen their circulations plunge to unimaginable levels. According to a story by journalist and educator Jack Lessenberry, who once was national editor of The Detroit News, daily circulation of each paper once topped 600,000.  Today, the Free Press sells less than 200,000 copies, while The News has sunk below 100,000. Equally disastrous is the Sunday circulation.

Such is the story nationwide, as newspapers have gone out of business, merged with other publications, or cut the number of days they distribute to newsstands.

Equally disconcerting is the small number corporations that now own our media outlets.

The Free Press is now owned by Gannett, which also scooped up the Observer & Eccentric chain of local newspapers, along with the Lansing State Journal, the Battle Creek Enquirer, The Times Herald, and the Livingston Daily. (They also own USA Today.) The Detroit News is owned by Digital First Media, which also owns The Oakland Press, the Daily Tribune, The Macomb Daily and Heritage Newspapers, which publishes various weeklies in Metro Detroit.

Statewide, MLive has a presence in 10 cities throughout the state: The Ann Arbor News, The Bay City Times, The Flint Journal, The Grand Rapids Press, the Jackson Citizen Patriot, the Kalamazoo Gazette, the Muskegon Chronicle, The Saginaw News, and online-only portals in Detroit and Lansing.

Detroit's TV network affiliates are owned by Fox, CBS, Scripps and Graham - all national entities. Ownership of our radio stations are dominated by Cumulus, Birach, Clear Channel and CBS.

Fewer owners, fewer voices, fewer choices.

The biggest change, however, is the industry's move to a digital world, as a greater emphasis is now placed on the web-based portals every media outlet maintains. That's especially true of the newspaper industry, which - after we dinosaurs become extinct - will one day cease publishing print editions and exist only in the online world.

One obstacle is in the way, however: Absolutely none of the publishers have figured out how to make money in this newfangled environment.

Why? With so much free content available to anyone with a computer, potential subscribers have been hesitant to pay for content behind a firewall - especially at prices they feel are too high for the quality and perceived value of the content. And readers are frustrated by poorly designed web portals, pop-up ads and other visual and content distractions that make the reading experience somewhat painful.

Plus - still - available advertising dollars remain limited. And advertisers are demanding high volumes of eyeballs on their ads before they'll commit to a contract.

And therein lies the problem - and the reason Jenn is now unemployed.

About those damn clicks

Clicks, you see, is the metric by which every story posted on a media website is judged.

In the pre-internet days, a financially successful newspaper was one in which the daily and Sunday circulations were high enough to turn a profit for the owner. All the number-crunchers knew were the total circulation figures; without any additional research, they had no clue what parts of their newspapers their patrons were actually reading. (Feedback is generally not helpful, as editors and publishers are more likely to hear complaints than compliments.) As such, it was deemed just as likely that theater reviews were as popular as anything else that appeared in print.

Plus - remember - in the old days, publishers wanted to be as all-encompassing as possible in their coverage to attract the broadest readership possible. So as long as they made a profit, there was no reason to discontinue coverage of any particular segment of the paper.

Unfortunately, that world doesn't exist any longer.

Today, technology has been both a boon and a curse. Now, editors and publishers can see with exact precision how many readers have "clicked" on a story. Or to put it another way, every single story now has its own circulation number.

No longer is there any guessing involved regarding which stories are of interest to the readers and which aren't. Now we know.

And it's apparently not good news for the theater industry. (The metrics include additional information about the readers that advertisers cherish, but we won't go into that for now.)

The realization that theater coverage was going the way of the dodo was becoming apparent these past several years, as newspapers throughout the state began downsizing their staffs and several noted critics accepted retirement offers or left via other options - and weren't replaced except by freelancers. (Martin F. Kohn and Sue Merrill are two examples.)

Ongoing discussions within the industry itself further revealed that metrics were becoming more and more important to editors and journalists alike, as number crunchers were having far more pull in the newsroom than ever before.

And what did we begin seeing less and less of as the current decade marched onward? You got it: theater coverage.

The importance of metrics became clear to me in my previous position as editorial director of EncoreMichigan.com, a web-based media company I co-created to fill the gap created by the ever-decreasing coverage of professional theater by the news media. (I tracked them faithfully as well!)

One day an idea occurred to me. One way to expose our brand to a wide range of potential readers, I thought, was to become a content provider to other publishers. Two signed on: CBS Detroit and MLive. (We also shared content with our then-owner, Pride Source Media Group.) As such, we'd provide them with our reviews and the occasional preview free of charge in exchange for links directing traffic back to our site.

The result was of benefit to all involved: CBS Detroit and MLive got free content (which meant they didn't have to pay staff or freelancers to do the work), we got some extra traffic, and readers of MLive and CBS Detroit were provided with stories they otherwise would have missed. And, of course, our theaters were also winners, as they obtained additional exposure that otherwise wouldn't have happened.

Our relationships were strong and cordial, and all of my contacts seemed pleased with our arrangement. We had, I thought, a win-win-win-win situation for all involved!

But highers-up in their food chains - the number crunchers - seemingly prevailed, and our services were no longer required.

So was I surprised when Jenn McKee was laid off last week? Nope; actually, I was surprised it took them so long to let her go.

The future

With Jenn's departure from The Ann Arbor News, theater coverage from our mainstream media is at its lowest point in decades. What coverage there is will be primarily by freelance writers - and it will be at the whim of editors who are under the gun to generate the highest number of clicks possible.

In other words, unless they advertise with them or generate clicks above a certain threshold, theaters shouldn't count on getting much coverage for their shows. (I hope I'm wrong with this; but only time will tell.)

And Jenn? She'll bounce back quickly, I suspect. As one of her former editors, I can attest to the quality of her work. Plus, her reputation is strong, and she'll add immediate value to whichever employer is smart enough to sign her up.

In short, her future is bright.

But this discussion isn't over. Coming soon - once I finish up some unfinished business - we'll chat about the future of Michigan's professional theater industry. It's a subject that launched recently as an argument on Facebook, and it's one that merits some in-depth examination.

* * * * * * * * * *

For more on the subject of clicks:

From The New York Times

From the BBC

From the Columbia Journalism Review

From the Royal Economic Society

From Wharton University of Pennsylvania

'I Have to Hang Up Now' (Tying Up Loose Ends, Pt. 1)

It was pretty easy to read the mind of Megan Buckley-Ball moments into her curtain speech at the final performance of "The Velocity of Autumn" at Matrix Theatre in Southwest Detroit.

Buckley-Ball, the theater's artistic director, had just walked onto the stage to welcome the sold-out crowd to Matrix. After she greeted the audience, she did what has now become standard operating procedure at every theater I attend: She asked people to take out their cell phones and turn them off. Not silent them, but turn them off.

Before she could continue her speech, however, I heard a very loud stage whisper coming from somewhere to my left. (I was seated in the second row on the far right side of the theater.) "I have to hang up now," the voice said. "They're telling us to turn off our cellphones."

I quickly zeroed in on the culprit. And surprisingly enough, it was an older woman sitting directly in front of Buckley-Ball - so close, in fact, that Megan could have reached out and snatched the phone away from the woman if she wanted to. But she didn't.

Buckley-Ball stared at the woman for a few seconds with an expression that said, "Really? You're having a conversation now?"

With the entire house now focused on her, wouldn't you think the woman would be embarrassed enough that she'd quickly end the conversation? Well, she didn't. Apparently, she'd rather be rude to several dozen people waiting for the show to begin than whomever it was she was talking to on the phone, because the conversation continued for what seemed to be an eternity. (In actuality, it probably lasted less than another 30 seconds, but it seemed longer.)

If my phone wasn't turned off, I would have shot some video or snapped a few photos to capture the expression on Buckley-Ball's face. It was priceless, as her smile slid from bemusement to "I can't believe she's still talking on the %$^&*$# phone!" And for a second, I though I saw a flash of "If I could kill the %#$@ and get away with it I would; we have a show to get moving here!"

But Buckley-Ball - who's doing a great job re-invigorating Matrix since the retirement of founder Shaun S. Nethercott, by the way - gracefully smiled and looked at the audience as if to say, "Can you believe this?" until the call ended. Which it finally did, and the phone was stored away. (Notice what I didn't say; stay tuned!)

Shortly thereafter, the show began.

"The Velocity of Autumn" by Eric Coble is a story many of us with aging parents can relate to - that of an aging woman whose children believe she can no longer care for herself. After living for decades in her Brooklyn apartment, Alexandra's children want to uproot her and force her into an assisted living type of arrangement. Fiercely independent, Alexandra wants to remain in her own home - and to prove her point, threatens to burn the place down should they forcibly try to evict her.

At their wits' end, two of her children call in the reserves for help - meaning her long-estranged son, Chris, to talk some sense into her.

The result was quite an amazing afternoon of live theater - so much so, that nary a peep was heard from the audience throughout its 90-minute, intermission-free running time.

Until, that is, during one of the most critical moments of the show, a muffled buzzing could be heard. Not once. Not twice. Rather, someone's phone buzzed for upwards of a minute - and based upon the reactions from around the audience, I suspect I know where it was coming from. And no, no attempt was made to turn it off.

Surprisingly - given the fact that the buzzing was mere inches away from them - actors Jane MacFarlane and Chris Korte didn't miss a beat; if it impacted their focus, they didn't let it show.

But that didn't surprise me, as the pair (and director David Wolber) had an earlier crisis to overcome, which they also accomplished quite well. A week or so before the show opened, MacFarlane broke a kneecap. But since the show must go on, it was decided to put Alexandra in a wheelchair, which would add new depth to the character (and which made sense, given the plot of the story). And so the staging was reblocked, and few - including critics - gave it a second thought.

All three should be proud of their work.

And Matrix Theatre's 25th anniversary season is certainly one to remember!