Recent Stories with tag seattle rep

Hans Altwies in An Iliad. Photo by Chris Bennion.

In 2007, Boston psychiatrist Jonathan Shay won a MacArthur fellowship for his work explicating Homer's Iliad in terms of a combat veteran's post-traumatic stress disorder. Titled Achilles in Vietnam, his book explored the character of Achilles as warped and eroded by an extended military campaign.

It's a brilliant tour-de-force, unveiling an Iliad you've likely never seen before. Readers have to wonder, given the regard in which Achilles is held, what his problem is. He's touchy, sulky, a hero who won't fight. Shay takes you through what nine years of military service entails: arbitrary orders from commanding officers, the randomness of death, loss of brothers in arms, and the wear of living in tents, out in the weather, away from home.

He contrasts The Iliad with Vietnam's endless bitching about REMFs, the steady degradation of morale, how units kept track of who got sent out on patrol, the ethical breakdowns that came from small bands of men operating at a survival level. Suddenly, Achilles and Agamemnon barking at each other over who gets the war "prize" Briseis comes into focus.

In Shay's telling, the personality torched by PTSD is the drama of The Iliad--the fiery fall of Troy is that destruction writ large, but war's cancer has already eaten into the head and heart of almost everyone involved. Return to The Iliad after that, and you pick your head up from the book as if you've been looking for hours into a reflecting pool, black with blood and glistenng with bone. When you read in Robert Fagles' translation:

With that, just as Dolon reached up for his chin
to cling with a frantic hand and beg for life,
Diomedes struck him square across the neck--
a flashing hack of the sword--both tendons snapped
and the shrieking head went tumbling in the dust.

...you know the visual acuity comes from battle stress. How many years later did Greeks wake up in a sweat, dreaming bits of The Iliad?

At the world premiere of An Iliad at the Seattle Rep (through May 16), I got the impression that creators Denis O'Hare and Lisa Peterson took the opposite tack. Where Shay draws you deeper into the text, they ceaselessly comment on it, tell you how relevant this next bit is, share a bit of research they uncovered, and in the process talk over most of what you came to hear.... (more)

Russell Hodgkinson and Charles Leggett. Photo by Chris Bennion.

"First prize is a Cadillac. Second prize is steak knives. Third prize? You're fired." That iconic line from David Mamet's Glengarry Glen Ross is one of the most easily recalled by those of us who've seen the all-star film version. This line is completely absent from the play, of course, as it belongs to Blake, a character written into the film by Mamet for Alec Baldwin. For those who've only seen the film, it is at first difficult to imagine it without Baldwin's character. Blake is a brusque, dominating figure whose jarring speech to the salesmen at the beginning of the film startles first-time viewers into understanding they're in for something a little different.

Happily, my little worry about no Blake was for naught. Moments after the curtain is drawn, Blake never existed.

For the uninitiated, Glengarry Glen Ross (Seattle Repertory Theatre; runs through the 28th; tickets $15-$59) is the story of four inglorious Chicago real estate agents driven to desperate acts in an attempt to keep their jobs.

As the audience moves about, finding their seats or standing in the aisle chatting, the curtain is wide open, an impressive set visible to all. It's a slightly run-down office mere feet from the El train. File cabinets, cardboard boxes, and four nondescript desks make up the main floor, and metal stairs lead up to a private office where a man in a necktie and suspenders pokes around, sifting through papers and smoking a cigarette. He's a mere curiosity at first, until the house lights begin to slowly come down and people rush to take their seats. Our man walks down the stairs, casually flipping lights off as he moves through the office. The audience finally becomes silent. He dons his jacket and puffs on his cigarette a few more times before opening the front door, hitting the final light switch, and walking out of sight. And with the thud of the door closing behind him, the theatre goes black. ... (more)

Russell Hodgkinson, John Aylward, MJ Sieber, R. Hamilton Wright, Charles Leggett, the cast of Seattle Rep's "Glengarry Glen Ross." Photo by Derek Sparks

Six and a half feet tall, with long hair, rough-hewn features, and a penchant for black leather jackets, Wilson Milam manages at once to stand out and to disappear in plain sight. Have him pointed out to you in a crowd and you can't help but notice him towering over the rest; pass him on the street and you probably wouldn't look up. It's an effect that's well suited to his personality: friendly but somewhat taciturn, in an interview he would sometimes stop mid-sentence to ponder something, an odd flicker of a happy memory crossing his face, only to ultimately defer the question.

Milam's also one of the most successful theatre directors you've likely never heard of, and certainly one of the most successful theatre artists to emerge from Seattle in last few decades. His career began in collaboration with playwright and actor Tracy Letts in Chicago in the early Nineties, with Milam directing Letts' first two plays, years before the he wrote the Pulitzer Prize-winning August: Osage County. From Chicago, Milam made his way to London where he's been based for more than a decade, making a name for himself as a director of new plays, perhaps most notoriously with the premiere Martin McDonagh's The Lieutenant of Inishmore, a darkly comic bloodbath of infamous proportions that's being staged at ACT Theatre in October.

Last year, Milam made his Seattle debut as a director with a widely praised production of Conor McPherson's The Seafarer at the Rep (itself a bit of bloodbath of booze), and now, he's returned to direct one of the plays that's been a life-long dream of his: Glengarry Glen Ross, David Mamet's 1982 masterpiece about an office of desperate real estate salesman, starring a who's who cast of Seattle's best actors, including R. Hamilton Wright, MJ Sieber, and Charles Leggett. The show opens tonight, Feb. 10, and runs through the 28th; tickets $15-$59.

I met with Milam a couple weeks ago to discuss the play and his career over coffee at Caffe Zingaro in Lower Queen Anne, near the theatre. Asked what part of town he grew up in, he chuckled and responded: "Bellevue. Back when QFC was still a pasture land, and there was no bridge. I still say the 'new' bridge."... (more)

David Mamet's "Edmond" at the Balagan Theatre, directed by Paul Budraitis. Photo by Andrea Huysing.

"I wound up in Seattle because I was going to Indiana University, and I was about to graduate so I was looking into my options," Paul Budraitis said. "I was pretty much set on going to Chicago, and then a few things happened that kind of made me reconsider. And I wound up talking to somebody that was heading to Seattle, a grad student, and she sort of sold me on the place, saying at least it was worth checking out."

About a week before the opening of David Mamet's Edmond at the Balagan (through Feb. 6, tickets $12-$15), which Budraitis directed, he and I met up at Caffe Vita to chat about his history and work. Tall and solidly built, Budraitis has a calm voice but gives off a vibe of quiet intensity that was only heightened by his deferral to wait in line to get a coffee for himself, mysteriously offering only that it did "something" to him and it was probably better that he didn't have any before heading to rehearsal. This all left me imagining him a pent-up ball of over-caffeinated aggression, à la Henry Rollins, though that owes as much to a video I once saw of his solo performance as anything to do with the man himself.

Budraitis, whose family emigrated from Lithuania, moved to Seattle in 1995 and spent the next five years working in fringe theatre. His time at Annex Theatre was particularly formative, because it was where he first learned Vsevolod Meyehold's biomechanics method, which continues to inform his theatrical approach. But in 2000, he left to go to grad school in Lithuania, where he trained under the legendary director Jonas Vaitkus, who, along with Oskaras Koršunovas and Eimuntas Nekrošius, helped put Lithuania on the global theatrical map with a radical aesthetic approach developed in the crucible of Cold War repression.... (more)

Shag (Anthony Heald) takes notes as his actors flesh out his script (from left, Gregory Linington, John Tufts, Jonathan Haugen). Photo by Jenny Graham.

It's your last weekend to see Equivocation at the Seattle Repertory Theatre (7:30 p.m. Fri-Sun, with a 2 p.m. showing on Sat-Sun; $12-40). The play really comes down to the three Bills: writer Bill Cain, director Bill Rauch, and protagonist Bill Shakespeare. But this isn't the Shakespeare you think of, the erudite playwright who just happens to be the Best Writer EVAR. Nope, Equivocation's Shakespeare is known as "Shagspeare" or just "Shag," a guy who's still struggling with his craft, who has family issues and writer's block and deadlines just like the rest of us. And he's played by Anthony Heald, who you immediately recognize as That Guy, since he's been in everything. (He played the weaselly principal on Boston Public as well as the weaselly doctor from Silence of the Lambs.)

Equivocation premiered last year at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival, and everyone involved remains intact for the Rep run. The nearly three-hour play is ostensibly about Shakespeare writing a new work. He's still workshopping King Lear when King James' chief adviser, the hunchbacked Sir Robert Cecil, approaches him to commission a play about the King defeating the perpetrators of the Gunpowder Plot (that's Guy Fawkes, et al, attempting to blow up Parliament, if you haven't seen V for Vendetta). The Bard tries to dramatize this non-event, but he finds it challenging to write a play that's nothing more than political propaganda. Because even in the 1600s, no one wants to be a sellout.  Equivocation is of course also about "equivocation," the idea of toeing the line between truth and lie.  It's an important and completely relevant idea, but as a theme, it kinda gets old real fast.  I get it; I have watched the Colbert Report and know all about truthiness, thanks.... (more)

(l-r): Allen Fitzpatrick as Elliot, Shawn Belyea as Alan, Charles Leggett as Carl, Todd Jefferson Moore as Dorian, Chelsey Rives as Grace.Photo by Chris Bennion, Post Editing by Andry Lawrence.

"Wouldn't it be cool if there was a play about string quartets, and the interaction of the characters was like the interaction of instruments?" Michael Hollinger asked himself one day.

Being a playwright and a former violist, he was uniquely positioned to provide an answer that question. The creative genesis of Opus (through December 6 at the Seattle Rep, tickets: $30-$52, $12 for 25-and-under), though, belies the play's biting humor and sitcom pacing. And its cast of local all-stars knows from close-quarters pressures and catty infighting. Witness the invention of "reality theatre"--slightly trashy, sometimes squirmy, but mostly fun.

To borrow his expression, Hollinger starts off a little "flat" with Opus, with the members of the famed Lazara String Quartet front-of-stage delivering a scene from their documentary, filmed when they were riding high. It's pure exposition, leavened with gag set-ups.

Time has brought divisions to the group, and with one member out (and gone missing)--the mercurial, over-sharing Dorian (Todd Jefferson Moore)--the remaining male trio are interviewing Grace (Chelsey Rives), who is young, very talented, and female. They think they are filling a vacant chair, but they are about to learn a quartet's chemistry is more than the sum of its parts.

If the character-sketching initially is broad strokes and the jokes are a little too on the nose, as the cast gets more stage time they deliver character that transcends the pat disclosures of banter. In particular, Charles Leggett's Carl (who doesn't banter, doesn't have time for it) turns out to be more violent and more alive to life than even the bipolar, poetic Dorian. As Alan, Shawn Belyea is lovably lecherous and sloppy, a musical Oscar Madison who's not sure if that's a bag of old tea on his counter or pot from his last trip to Amsterdam.

As the group's unofficial leader, the violinist Elliot (Allen Fitzpatrick) may be the hardest part to play. Snippy control freaks are not particularly sympathetic characters, unless you have Jack Lemmon on hand. And Fitzpatrick (not a criticism, an observation) is no Jack Lemmon. His closeted fussbudget Elliot might be tragic, but I never got close enough to see beyond the snits and petulance.... (more)

Return to part one of our interview with Etta Lilienthal.

Chelsey Rives as Jo and Nick Garrison as Jules in Seattle Rep's production of "boom." Photo by Chris Bennion

Theatre Communications Group, the largest theatre org in the country, just announced their list of the most produced plays in the coming season, and leading off the list is Peter Sinn Nachtrieb's boom, which exploded at Seattle Rep last November. The Rep's production wasn't the debut, but it certainly helped put the play on the map with almost universally glowing reviews. It was also a nice turn of events for the Rep--boom's run got extended right around the same time that they were closing down their ill-fated production of The Three Musketeers. Also, the second most produced play will be Conor McPherson's The Seafarer, the other highlight of the Rep's season. Looks like Jerry Manning's really got his finger on the American theatre pulse.

Tuesday night the parking lot south of On the Boards was filled with badminton courts filled with badminton teams from Seattle's arts community.

Bystanders were enjoying Mirror Pond Ale for $1 and low-priced street food, and things were packed. "Awesome"'s John Osebold was rubbing elbows with NWFF director Lyall Bush and the Stranger's Bethany Jean Clement. The tailgate ambiance is OtB's way of saying welcome to the 2009-2010 season.

The final tournament was held on the mainstage. It was vaguely surreal watching something like sports played on the OtB stage. A man sitting a few seats away rang handbells and shouted cheers about regional theatre. Finally Pottery NW emerged triumphant over the Seattle Rep team, and the shuttlecocks were gathered up until next year.