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Painter of Light (Trademark) Porn
Ellen Kuras of Coffee & Cigarettes thinks Thomas Kinkades guidelines for movie-making sound like rules for making '60s porn. The article is Thomas Kincade's 16 Guidelines for Making Stuff Suck.
Published on November 18, 2008 at 6:06 pm | Permalink | 0 Comments
Podcast Hold
from Joffre
Our only person with the know-how to put the finishing touches to our next podcast is down with that cold that's been going around. You know, the one you're coming down with right now. So our podcast's not up. Hopefully very soon!
Published on November 15, 2008 at 10:59 pm | Permalink | 0 Comments
A Really Bad Review . . . Almost
From Stephanie Young
I am not a fan of gushing. Actually, I despise it. I like to see something added to this great conversation that is theatre, and I prefer a thoughtful, encouraging tone to the cheerleader-esque “You must see this, it's, like, so totally awesome, and I may or may not have been pad to say so” blather. But those sentiments have been thoroughly pummeled out of me by Warehouse Theatre's latest show: John Cariani's “Almost, Maine.” The happy fact of the matter is, I don't think I can add anything to this masterful production. So without reserve, with great excitement, and with only a slight hint of Valley Girl inflection, I will here say, You've Got to See This Show! It deserves the highest praise I know to give to a piece of theatre—It is alive.
Cariani's dialogue is crackling—funnier than anything I've heard in a long time, and intelligent, to boot. I believed every word the four (only four!) actors spoke on that stage—which is a stunning accomplishment given the bizarre situations in which these characters find themselves. Even the travel brochures insist that they are a different breed of people. People who let strangers camp out on their lawns. People who have a bad habit of misspelling their tattoos, and who may or may not be able to fix all nineteen pieces of your broken heart.
They're all from northern Maine, see. Way-way-way northern Maine. So North, and so cold, and so tiny that they aren't even a township. They're almost organized enough, they're almost united enough to make up a real town, but not quite. And “almost” turns out to be the metaphor for all of these people—for their sundry attempts at connecting with each other. For their givings and misgivings, fallings in and out of love.
You see, they aren't really another breed. They are you and me and our loves and almost-loves. Which doesn't mean they are syrupy--they go through pain like you and I. They just go through it in a most unusual manner (an ironing board? A big red sack full of love?), and it's almost always funny. Almost always.
That sort of dexterity—the funny and painful and poignant all rolled up together in something so real you swear you've seen it all before . . . in yourself—that sort of acting gymnastics deserves a standing ovation. I can't single out any one actor, or even any of the nineteen characters they portrayed. Debra Capps, Adam Critchlow, Jason M. Shipman, and Anne Tromsness—they made each character a living, breathing person, and they all have my deepest respect for the work they did last night.
Other respectable persons include the designers, David Hartman (scene), Tony Penna (Lights), Kevin Frazier (Sound), Jayce Tromsness (Costumes). The opening ahhhh, the perfect, perky music, the brilliant lights, the furious costume changes off (and on!) the stage—the show was seamless and beautiful. Ah, me. Forgive the gushing, but Director Chip Egan really does deserve something for pulling all of this together—maybe, he could direct a few more shows in Greenville?
I'd pay to see them. In fact, I, the obnoxious person who gave you this high school pep rally in which you learned next to nothing, I am currently finagling my almost non-existent finances into letting me see “Almost, Maine” again—something I've done only one other time in my eight years of theatre. In today's economy, that's no small investment—not even almost. But it will be worth every penny.
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John Cariani's “Almost, Maine,” directed by Chip Egan.
Presented by The Warehouse Theatre, 37 Augusta St., Greenville (864) 235-6948. Through November 29. Tickets $25. Students $15.
Published on November 15, 2008 at 10:57 pm | Permalink | 1 Comments
Some Stories within a Story within a Story
(And why you should see all of them)
from Stephanie Young
Rob Handel's "Millicent Scowlworthy" is about many things--grief, memory, healing. But more than anything else, it's a play about about plays. About how theatre can help us navigate grief, preserve our vital memories, and grow toward wholeness. It's worth seeing to be confronted by the role stories (and sympathetic audiences) play in our perception of reality. But I'll argue that there's another reason for catching one of these last few performances: director Brian Haimbach is using this play to shape the actors of our future.
Millicent Scowlworthy is everything her name suggests: boorish, melancholy, and shocking. But you can't blame her, given her violent past (and Hannah Baker's sympathetic portrayal of her). She's a refugee, recently adopted into a powerful socialite family, and the combination proves deadly. Enter media-frenzy and a town more concerned with blame than with true healing, and you get a group of brooding, anguished teenagers, among them Kelly and Porter--explosive performances (and I'm not just being cute) by Jenna Grabijas and Brandon Brown. JonBenet Ramsey, meet Columbine.
Thankfully, Handel knows how to exercise restraint--giving us just enough detail for our imaginations to handle the rest. And even more thankfully, he's put the whole thing into a thought-provoking frame tale. The real story is about a group of students who believe it is important to remember these events. They meet every year, draw names, and don costumes. They re-create the lives that were taken, the lives that did the taking, and the Greek tragedies in which they all happened to be acting at the time. (Ms. Grabijas plays a strong Kelly, but her Iphigeneia and Electra are two of the highlights of this production.)
Unfortunately, the adults in town want to move on, to command the timetables of grief and healing in the same way you'd order a dog's obedience. They chase the young actors from performance location to performance location, until the kids are huddled in a basement, holding onto each other, and reliving the brutal end.
Heavy? Yes. Dark? You bet. But you might be surprised to find yourself leaving the theatre hopeful. The reason? Well, one of them is Kalesh Nicholson, whose sullen waiter and pitch-perfect director Botho Spire promise great things for her (and our) theatrical future. Ms. Nicholson, like all the actors in this production, is a student at the Greenville Tech Theatre Program, but you'd never know it. If her electric performance is any indication of what's in our future, we do have reason to rejoice. Another reason: we need to tell these stories of grief. We need to listen. When we do, like we did at Centre Stage last night, we come a little closer to each other, and to healing. But that, I suppose, is the whole point of the play.
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Rob Handel's "Millicent Scowlworthy," directed by Brian Haimbach. Presented by Grenville Tech Theatre Program at Centre Stage, 501 River Street, inside the Smith-Barney building, downtown Greenville. Tickets available at the door. $10
Published on November 14, 2008 at 3:17 pm | Permalink | 0 Comments
Review of Furr Next Podcast
from Joffre
Our next podcast will feature Andy Martin's review of Blitzen Trapper's latest, Furr. I'm really looking forward to discussing the album with him.
Here's a taste of Blitzen Trapper live.
Published on November 10, 2008 at 3:53 pm | Permalink | 0 Comments
How to Get the Revenant Culture Halloween Playlist.
For those of you who listened to the Revenant Culturecast, Episode 15 (Halloween extravaganza!) and wanted to get our playlist in iTunes, here are some detailed instructions.
(I hoped it would be easier to get than this, but here you go...)
1) In iTunes, go to the iTunes store.
2) In the top left corner of the screen, where the iTunes STORE categories are listed, click on music.
3) On the next screen, on the left hand side of the store, look for a box titled "More in Music." Click on "iMix."
4) Search for "revenant culture," and you'll see our playlist as one of the only ones that comes up.
If you download it, thanks for trusting our recommendations! Don't
forget to rate the playlist and leave us a comment. Peace, and be well!
Published on November 1, 2008 at 11:46 pm | Permalink | 0 Comments
So Maybe I'd Kill Her Too
Agatha Christie's “Appointment with Death” at Greenville Little Theatre
review by Stephanie Geter Young
No one goes to a mystery to be lectured. In fact, most of us lining up at the theatre are seeking relief from tedium. We want a romantic murder, a few luscious whodunit thrills, some alarming approximations of the British accent, and a chummy intermission spent campaigning for your own favorite suspect. Fortunately for all, Greenville Little Theatre's latest Agatha Christie, “Appointment with Death,” provides just such an evening. But what none of us bargained for, and few of us realized when we queued up for tickets, was that this play would ask us to consider some rather uncomfortable (and definitely unpopular) ideas.
Uncomfortable idea number one: there is such a thing as a completely evil person. Enter Mrs. Boynton, ex-warden and matriarch from the nether regions. Raising children (even grown children) is a sport for her—a blood sport whose end result should be mental deformity and pain. Jan Anderson's Mrs. Boynton may be a bit uneven in spots (I didn't believe her until the second act), but in this she succeeds: you will hate her. Without your even knowing it, idea number one is in the bag: people can be purely evil, and this woman is it.
Thankfully, Madame Boynton isn't the only person in the play. Dame Agatha and the GLT cast have provided us with some blessed relief in the polar opposites and rivals Lady Westholme (Patricia deVroomen in a delightfully stodgy and unFAtiguing performance) and Alderman Higgs (a jolly good showing for Robert Simms), both of whom just happen to be vacationing in the same Jerusalem hotel with the Boyntons. Their comic bickering relieves any strain the plot may have caused and clears the way for some all-out laughs by Lady Westholme's Dragoman (Jeremiah Dew, easily the steal of the show), the very clean, very Christian tour guide with a nom de guerre and a souvenir—he make you very special price—for every occasion.
But underneath all the laughing, Agatha Christie has hidden the even more uncomfortable idea number two: it's our job to put evil people to death. Mrs. Boynton drags her brood through Jerusalem and Petra (kudos for the creative set design), wreaking havoc on their budding romances, their marriages, and their sanity. (All the Boynton actors—and especially Caroline Davis—merit some extra applause for their nervous performances.) By the time they're in the middle of the desert, headed for divorce court and the sanatorium, you'll agree with the kids: “One of us has got to kill her.” I heard more than one audience member mumbling, “I'd kill her,” and so, unfortunately, would I.
Which brings us to uncomfortable idea number three—we think we want justice, but we don't know how to carry it out. We want Mrs. Boynton dead, but we hope-hope-hope it wasn't that character who did it . . . and not that one either. It can't be anyone we like, because then we'd have to admit that they've got a little bit of evil inside of them, too. But we like all the characters. I've never seen a mystery like it. We're almost as torn up and conflicted as Mrs. Boynton's offspring—and all of it over who we hope didn't do it.
I'll leave it to you to determine if Christie found her perfect villain or no. But what I will say is this: maybe these uncomfortable ideas aren't so bad after all. Maybe there is evil, and maybe it should be punished. But maybe there is something more important than both of these notions combined: we humans still crave mercy and goodness. Now that's something worth waiting in line for.
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Agatha Christie's “Appointment with Death” directed by Suzanne McCalla, with Jan Anderson (Mrs. Boynton), Roberta Barnes (Nadine Boynton), Chris Cashon (Raymond Boynton), Michael Coupland (Colonel Carbery), Caroline Davis (Ginevra Boynton), Patricia deVroomen (Lady Westholme), Jeremiah Dew (Dragoman), Stephanie Downing (Miss Annabel Pryce), Evan Harris (Jefferson Cope), Thomas Holliday (Lennox Boynton), Sara Kosmer (Sarah King), Peter S. Lupu (Dr. Gerard), Caleb Meahl (Arab boy), Leah Meahl (Italian girl), Robert Simms (Alderman Higgs), Chris Snapp (Clerk).
Costume, and scene design by Suzanne McCalla, Lighting by Bill Rich. Presented by Greenville Little Theatre, 444 College Street; Greenville, SC 29601. (864) 233-6238. Through November 15. Tickets $25.
Published on October 31, 2008 at 2:52 pm | Permalink | 1 Comments
Whyfore Art Thou Romeo?
from Stephanie
I am sorry to report that you won't find a lick of cheese at Grace's Diner. No rye bread. No alcohol. But you will find a beguiling cast, some day old donuts, and, if you're strong enough, the love of your life. Not everybody does find love, you know. And that's exactly what has made William Inge's Bus Stop such a long-time success. The Centre Stage production, directed by Chip Egan, is no exception.
When the bus to Topeka gets snowed in at a sleepy Kansas diner, more than one person is in danger of being “mow-lested,” as Bo would say. He's the moody, milk-spewing cowboy that Matthew Merrit plays to a melodramatic Texas-T, and he's doing half of the mow-lestin' hisself. He's dragging Cherie, the kind-hearted “chanteuse” (Katie Martin—she's more charming than Marilyn ever was) to a ranch in Montana—against her will. And there's Elma Duckworth (Meghan Wallace), the high school waitress who is being slowly seduced by the alcoholic Professor Lyman (J. Michael Craig).
Craig offers one of the two stand-out performances of the evening. I shudder to say it, but you'll love this would-be pedophile. For starters, he's the only one who realizes that everyone is in danger, not just the girls. They're all in danger of succumbing to their own selfishness and isolation. They're in danger of hoarding up love “in our bosoms forever, where it withers and dies. Then we never know love, only its facsimiles, which we seek over and over again in meaningless repetition.”
The full weight of Lyman's philosophy comes crashing down on him during a drunken re-enactment of the Romeo & Juliet balcony scene. It's worth the price of admission just to witness Lyman's emotional pyrotechnics. He imbues Romeo's speech with an ironic self-loathing and is utterly transformed by Shakespeare's words coming out of his mouth. Compared to Romeo, he's just “a drunken, unruly child.”
According to this measure, he's not the only child in the room, the wife-nabbing Bo being chief among them. Even Carl and Grace (Beau Phillips and Kelly Wallace), with their “mature” lovers' tryst are just toying with each other, neither willing to give up something of the self to the other. Thankfully, there are enough open-hearted characters to keep these childish shenanigans from getting out of hand. The local sheriff and deacon (Steven Griffith) is one. Virgil Blessing is the other. He's Bo's fatherly side-kick, and Richard Beveridge's portrayal of him is the second stand out performance of the evening. He's so easy and lovable and salt-of-the-earth real that you want to run right on stage and hug the man.
But nobody does hug Virgil. It's enough to make a girl cry. That's the Old Black Magic at work in this production: you are never served so much happy ending that your taste buds cloy. There's just enough wisdom and just enough love to leave your heart aching for more.
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William Inge's “Bus Stop” directed by Chip Egan, with Richard Beveridge (Virgil Blessing), J. Michael Craig (Dr. Gerald Lyman), Steven Griffith (Will Masters), Beau Phillips (Carl), Kelly Wallace (Grace Hoylard), Katie Martin (Cherie), Meghan Wallace (Elma Duckworth), Matthew Merritt (Bo Decker).
Scene Design by Lesly Preston; Costume Design by Carol Robbins; Sound Design by Christoph Kress. Presented by Centre Stage, 501 River Street, Greenville, SC (864) 233-6733. Through November 1. Tickets $25, with discounts for seniors and students.
Published on October 17, 2008 at 3:06 pm | Permalink | 0 Comments
