Tommy (Musical) - CSUB 2020

Right before California shut down most gatherings to shelter-in-place for Covid-19, we were able to attend CSUB’s production of Tommy. My eldest is a big classic rock fan, so we went together to see this. 

Written mostly by Pete Townshend, with contributions from Des McAnuff and the rest of the Who, Tommy is a rock opera that was originally an album centered on the song “Pinball Wizard.” It was adapted for stage in 1992, and that is the version we saw. 

The plot is a bit bizarre: young Tommy becomes deaf, blind, and dumb after witnessing his father (recently released from a POW camp) kill his mother’s lover after a fight. He remains unresponsive for years, until he turns out to be a pinball savant, playing entirely by feel. Later, his mother smashes the mirror in which Tommy saw the killing, and Tommy suddenly recovers his senses. He becomes a celebrity, but becomes disillusioned with the way his fans look to him as a spiritual leader, so he withdraws from public life to be with his family. 

College productions are a bit unpredictable, in part because the student talent varies from year to year. In general, CSUB has high production values, and often some great acting. The weakest part has typically been the dropoff from the best actors and singers to the lesser ones. In this case, this was apparent between the best singers and the ones that were in a bit over their heads. 

The good news is that the part of the adult Tommy was played by Natalie Love, who was excellent. Also outstanding in a bit part was Jan Mateo Tugab, with electrifying dance moves and solid singing. The overall ensemble was good, but a few of the singers tended to drift on pitch from time to time when singing alone. 

The live band was a real treat. Anchored by local pro and veteran of several outstanding local bands, drummer Cesario Garaza, the band was tight all night, well balanced, and energetic. For the most part, it was pros, not students - and that is how they sounded. For me, that was the best part. 

I also loved the creative set, which evoked a pinball machine. Whoever handles set design and construction at CSUB deserves major props for both creativity and craftsmanship - sets have been consistently great for years. 

It is sad right now that all theater in the state of California is shut down indefinitely, although I support the decision. I am looking forward to a return to normalcy, and will be out there supporting our local arts scene as usual. 

 CSUB needs more publicity photos - this is the only one I could find.

Green Day's American Idiot (Empty Space 2019)

Don't wanna be an American idiot

Don't want a nation under the new media

And can you hear the sound of hysteria?

The subliminal mind-fuck America

Welcome to a new kind of tension

All across the alien nation

Where everything isn't meant to be okay

Television dreams of tomorrow

We're not the ones who're meant to follow

For that's enough to argue

Well maybe I'm the faggot America

I'm not a part of a redneck agenda

Now everybody do the propaganda

And sing along to the age of paranoia

***

In doing my research for this post, I was startled to realize that the album, American Idiot, actually came out in 2004, which seems rather later than I thought. But I guess that is kind of the way it often works for me, given my, um, complicated, relationship with popular music. Maybe I should back up a bit and explain. 

Music is one of the most important parts of my life. I do not remember a time when I didn’t love music, and care deeply about music. Classical music in particular has been meaningful to me my entire lifetime. When I was very young, I remember snuggling in my parents’ bed after dark, listening to the classical program sponsored by a local utility. Somewhere around age 6, I saw a little friend of mine play a recital on violin, and I was struck by the idea that maybe I too could learn to play. I pestered my poor parents until they gave in and got me a violin and lessons for my 7th birthday. My mom probably deserves a sainthood for putting up with those first years until I got to the point where my playing was bearable. We didn’t have much money at that time, so even lessons were a stretch. But my mom also found a way to get a set of classical albums from a grocery store promotion, and from then on, classical has been a part of my listening. I worked my way from youth symphony to the grown up version around age 20, and have enjoyed making music with friends most of my life. 

So that’s the classical side. 

My dad always had a love for classic pop and rock from the 1960s, particularly The Beach Boys. I gained an introduction to that era from listening to the radio while driving around with him. 

Unfortunately, as I got to the age where I might learn the music of my own generation, my parents got into a bizarre bit of religious fanaticism on the subject of music. I don’t even remember the source or speaker on the tapes, but it basically tied all music that has an “African” origin - jazz, rock, pop, modern country, etc. - to “the devil’s music.” This idea was also a core part of Bill Gothard’s teaching, which dominated our family from my mid-teens onward.

This led to a huge tension in my life. I learned enough of the drums to play for our youth group and even fill in for the adult service. But I had to (more or less) lie to my mom that I played on beats 1 and 3 (God’s preference) rather than on 2 and 4 (the Devil’s beat). Which is - as any legitimate musician would know - utter bullshit. The history of Western music (and more) is that of bass on beats 1 and 3 and treble on 2 and 4. Basically, this whole thing was racism applied to music. Damn n----r beats, of course. 

So, my teen years were kind of a pantomime, in a way. Once I got my own car and license, I listened to stuff I liked (mostly learning the 60s and 70s on a good oldies station Bakersfield had at the time), playing music on drums, electric guitar, with actual syncopation. (Like, um, every classical composer too…) And, at the same time, trying not to freak my mom out any more than I had to. Which meant that I had to stay fully clear of anything actually modern on the radio. And certainly never listen to anything with a parental advisory on the cover. 

After I finally got a place of my own at age 22 - by which time the Internet had arrived - I had to go back and discover my own generation’s music. It has been a...process, shall we say. One thing I have had in my favor is a baseline of musical knowledge, which, along with a decent memory, allowed me to learn quickly. 

I do remember the first time I really listened to Green Day. It was around 1999 or so, when I was visiting friends (ironically, fellow Gothardites) who were a few years younger. We drove around Sonoma County in their Bronco and listened to forbidden music like Nirvana and Green Day - those were the two that stood out the most. Okay, and Weird Al Yankovic. 

It is hard to believe that American Idiot didn’t come out until a few years later, after I was married and had a couple kids. Somehow, the songs run together with the older ones of my first memory. 

So all this to come to the present. My eldest is, like me, a musical omnivore. This has meant a heck of a lot of fun, honestly. We saw Bohemian Rhapsody together (she’s a huge Queen fan), and we go to concerts and sing along with all the songs we know from the 60s to the 90s. When we saw that there was going to be a local production of American Idiot, we knew we had to go see it. 

I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect from the show. I got busy and didn’t have a chance to go through the album in detail and figure it out, so I had to kind of follow things as they came. 

The basic idea of the musical is a very barebones plot to hold together the songs themselves. The album is even more vague than the musical, of course. It has a basic idea, and the beginning of a plot, but it never really figures out what happens. Which is fine: it’s a concept album that just happens to have some amazing songs that have aged really well. 

If I had it to do over again, I would have gone ahead and read the Wikipedia plot summary first, to make things easier to follow. Basically, this is what it is: three friends growing up in a suburban dystopia decide to leave for the big city to find themselves. One ends up staying behind after his girlfriend gets pregnant. Another tires of the city quickly and joins the army, getting seriously wounded in Iraq. The third spirals down into drug addiction before deciding to return home. Which is what all three end up doing after their escapades. 

TES publicity photo  

Obviously, the plot isn’t the main point here. The songs are the thing, and they have stood up to time surprisingly well. Written three years into the Iraq War - which has turned out to have been the first in an 18 year (and counting…) debacle of absolute self-fuckery. The poets have turned out to be prophets in the end. 

To me and those like me, this wasn’t obvious at the time. I was all in on the war, having seen the towers fall. It was rah, rah, shock ‘n’ awe and this was totally going to work and be over fast and not turn into another Vietnam because this time we weren’t going to leave but were going to blow the bad guys to kingdom come and fuck the naysayers because the liberals were all a bunch of pansies and…

Well, here we are 18 years later. My children have never known a time we weren’t at war. We have caused, in all likelihood, well north of a million civilian casualties - innocent victims we euphemize as “collateral damage.” Saddam and Osama have been replaced by ISIS and others, and I can’t honestly say that any place in the Middle East is better off than before we intervened. (Although, to be fair, our disastrous interference dates back to World War I…) We have a generation of soldiers (as in Vietnam) who are traumatized by their experiences, causing ongoing issues with homelessness, suicide, and general dysfunction. And, as problematic as George W. Bush was (and I voted for him, twice, don’t judge), now we have gone far beyond him to the delightful combination of idiocy and virulent hatred that is personified in Trump. And it sure looks like Green Day was prophetic about the future, with Fox News and racist rednecks and bigoted theocrats in power. Good god. The poets (and musicians) have been and continue to be our prophets. 

So, a bit about this production. First, the bad. I found the vocals to be uneven, with some intermittent pitch issues. Combined with this (and perhaps causing it) was the challenging logistics. The Empty Space is a very small venue, in an older strip mall. Although they used mics this time - most shows have been pure acoustic - there is still no way to get around the acoustical challenges of the venue. For some shows, the vocals have been outstanding, but others, not so much. This one was a mixed bag. Interestingly, the best parts were the ensemble numbers. I get the feeling that the members of the ensemble cast were more comfortable singing under difficult conditions than the leads, and were able to carry the pitch. So, as a musician myself, there were some moments where I really wished the pitch had been better. 

On the more positive side, I loved that TES got some live musicians. In particular, Alex Mitts (who has been a favorite of mine as an actor and singer in past productions) rocked it on guitar and general enthusiasm in the on-stage band. (Two guitars and bass were placed at backstage behind a chain link fence.) Kudos as well to Scott Deaton and Luis Velez (who also act!) - I’ve played for musicals myself, and it is a freaking difficult and thankless job. 

The most major change that TES made from the original was flipping the gender of the lead character. Johnny, and part of the alter-ego “St. Jimmy,” were performed by Gari Galanski, which meant a lesbian love scene, and a somewhat different take on the character. Maybe it is just our culture, but I found her version less offensive than it might have been with a male lead. The love story with “whatshername” seems more equal and less “hump and dump” than with a guy, and the drug use more tragic and less “hey, look at me, I’m a heroic druggie!” than I have seen with male-oriented biopics. (Think the difference between, say, Hendrix, and Amy Winehouse…) 

 Johnny (Gari Galanski) and "whatshername" (Nancee Stieger) shooting up.

Oddly, I knew a heck of a lot more about heroin as a kid than I did about contemporary music...thanks to The Cross and the Switchblade and other religious books about drugs and gangs.

I should at least mention a few of the other performers. Kelsey Morrow carried the vocal duties for “St. Jimmy,” and she was the best vocal lead in the production. Jake Wattenbarger as Tunny captured the anguish of of war and injury - and looked a hell of a lot like Billie Joe Armstrong, although Armstrong never played that particular part. Nolan Long, a regular at TES, was rather strong as Will, the pothead loser who stays home. I don’t think I had ever heard him sing, but he was pretty good. And amusing as usual. Nancee Steiger who is good at everything, shined in her part as “whatshername.” And a few in the ensemble who always bring an amazing energy to the dance numbers. (Please don’t take it wrong if I don’t mention you - the ensemble was excellent and everyone contributed.) Corissa Garcia, Aron Clugston, Markelle Taylor, Kiera Gill, and Elizabeth Bomar, you guys stood out for energy and engagement. Rock on. 

 Will (Nolan Long), Johnny (Gari Galanski), and Tunny (Jake Wattenbarger)

 St. Jimmy (Kelsey Morrow)

As usual, I must commend The Empty Space for fantastic set design. From the floor (which had the entire song list) to the rolling couch to the slogans and posters on the walls, the atmosphere was perfect. Kudos to directors Perrin Swanson (no relation, but proud to share the name) and Mystie Peters for their vision for this. 

This show runs through the 23rd, so local folks might want to see it. TES is criminally inexpensive, so I never feel bad about grabbing a ticket and a cocktail or coffee there. Give it a shot.

***

Some personal stuff: 

During my first real crisis of faith this decade, a few Green Day songs have been meaningful to me. None more so than the quintessential misused graduation song, “Good Riddance.” That song was kind of my own personal anthem to both persons and institutions that were abusive to me and mine. Naturally, it has a badass violin part. If I hadn’t had a symphony concert in the middle of the run, I would have accepted the invite to be part of this production. Sigh. The sacrifices we make for art…

Anyway, I’ll just mention “Boulevard of Broken Dreams,” “Holiday,” “Extraordinary Girl,” “Wake Me Up When September Ends,” and “21 Guns” as additional favorites as songs from the musical. Again, “Holiday” seems to anticipate the Trump era in so many ways. Yeah, let’s embrace authoritarianism, wrap ourselves in the flag and faith, throw the Nazi salute at Il Toupeee, and kill the “fags” who disagree. Yeah, fuck that. 

So many of these songs speak to me. “Boulevard of Broken Dreams” is one of my all time favorite songs, and the video was filmed in my beloved Mojave Desert.  It has been a source of bonding with my eldest.

But is has to be “Good Riddance” that has been the genuine soundtrack for my break from, well, a lot of things. Evangelicalism, of course. But really, Billie Joe Armstrong wrote it as a breakup song for an ex, and it really captures the bittersweet essence of breaking up with...whatever. I have never had a nasty romantic breakup (that goes along with marrying your first real girlfriend - who is an amazing woman who you truly want to spend the rest of your life with), but I have had some truly traumatic breakups with my religious tradition and certain members of my extended family, some of whom I have retained a  relationship with - in a decidedly modified form - and others of which I have no relationship with because of their abusive behavior. And ditto for a few people in my religious history who went behind my back to propagate hate. 

Yet, when I look back, my personal and religious background also made me who I am. 

So take the photographs and still frames in your mind

Hang it on a shelf in good health and good time

Tattoos of memories and dead skin on trial

For what it's worth it was worth all the while

That’s absolutely me. I am, for better or for worse, a product of my upbringing. The good and bad of my parents, religion, religious leaders, politics, and extended family. My 40 years spent in Evangelicalism, my upbringing in Cultural Fundamentalism. Those memories and dead skin on trial - they made me who I am. Were they worth it? Hell if I know, but it’s not like I had a choice when it came to my family. And I can’t say I really should have known to reject my religious tradition until it became obviously toxic. There were good times too. It made me what I am, for better or for worse. 

But, as I have deconstructed things over the last decade or so, “Good Riddance” has been on my playlist for those late nights when I have been working through my baggage. In some ways, it has been permission to let go of those ideas - and people - who have been toxic in my life. 

Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road

Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go

So make the best of this test and don't ask why

It's not a question, but a lesson learned in time

Those moments, those turning points in my past (and I can think of specific dates…) were indeed moments when time grabbed me by the wrist, and I had no real choice where to go. It wasn’t so much that I had a real decision to make, as that I had to learn a lesson. Evangelicalism wasn’t some benign religion, but a fucking white supremacist political movement. My family wasn’t ever going to truly accept the choices my wife and I made, but would insist on imposing 1850s gender roles and expectations on us. It was a lesson learned in time. I don’t really have to ask why (although I certainly do ask why, as a matter of theological necessity to myself), but I do have to learn the lesson. I hope I have. 

But at every major turning point in the road over the last decade, I have played this song as I have tried to deconstruct my own trauma. There is something about it, the combination of rejection of the past with the acknowledgement that who we are is totally about the reality we were raised in, that resonates with us Fundie survivors today. I wouldn’t give up who I am, even as I acknowledge how my past has traumatized me. And yes, Green Day is part of who I am as well. And for that I am thankful. 

The Turn of the Screw (Theatre in the Black 2019)

The Turn of the Screw was one of the first tales by Henry James I read. Unlike Daisy Miller (which I found to be subpar, and which turned my wife off of Henry James completely), James’ atmospheric and influential ghost story caught my imagination. Later writers, such as Shirley Jackson, would cite The Turn of the Screw as a significant influence in their own writing. In particular, the ambiguity as to whether the apparitions are real, or if they are all in the head of the protagonist, has inspired practically a whole genre. 

You can read my thoughts on The Turn of the Screw (and other novellas and short stories) here.  

Bakersfield is blessed with a vibrant local arts scene. In the last few years in particular, there have been a number of outstanding theater productions by several different groups. The newest group is Theatre in the Black, which focuses on darker works, typically with very small casts, and unusual venues. 

This particular version of The Turn of the Screw was Jeffrey Hatcher’s adaptation for a cast of two. The unnamed protagonist, a young governess, was performed by Caroline Fox. All of the other roles were handled by Bryan Maddern. These included the narrator (brother of the governess), the aristocratic uncle who hires her, the housekeeper, and the young boy. 

The script itself is fairly stripped down, but Theatre in the Black took it a few steps further toward minimalism. The performance was at The Guild House, a historic home transformed into a restaurant and event location. (I have played a few weddings there back in the day.) It certainly looks the part of the old mansion, although it is more Edwardian than Victorian. The larger room, essentially a living room, was used as the location. Roughly 25 chairs set at tables held the audience, and a small area in front of an elegant fireplace served as the stage. The only lighting was the candles and dim lights at the tables and on the walls and so on. One could consider it just a bit brighter than candlelight. There were no special effects. Not even sound effects. There were no costume changes. Everything was done by voice and body language. The apparitions were manifested only in the way the actors reacted to them. 

The play adheres pretty faithfully to the story. Like the original, key details are doled out slowly and incompletely. There are a few minor differences. (The one that came to mind is that the daughter eventually speaks in the original, but not in the play - because she exists only in the mind - no actor portrays her.) James never truly finished the narrative, but instead left it at a tragic point. We never do find out what happened to the other characters, and things are never actually explained. Which is exactly what James intended. 

One difference that was particularly noticeable was in the interpretation of the governess’ actions as connected with her repressed sexuality. This is nothing new, of course. I think it was in the 1930s that this theory was first set forth. The thing of it is, James’ writing is, if anything, about as unsexual as possible. Thinking back on the books of his I have read, it is kind of notable, actually, how he can write so well about emotional entanglement, and yet seem so sexless. There is some evidence that James himself was asexual. He never appears to have had a romantic relationship, although he was quite social and had friends. So, when I read The Turn of the Screw, I didn’t really see it as sexual - although romantic was at least possible. On the other hand, there is an argument to be made in favor of the sexual connection. In Hatcher’s version, the ties to sexuality are obvious - and they work pretty well. 

This was a thoroughly enjoyable production. Both actors were outstanding and compelling. The timing was spot on throughout. The setting enhanced the experience, and everything felt intimate. 

 Caroline Fox and Bryan Maddern

TitB publicity photo

I should also mention the “opening act.” Immediately prior to the play, Rikk Cheshire, performing as Edgar Alan Poe, read “The Raven.” I am always in favor of hearing poetry performed aloud - there is too little of that in our all too prosaic world. Cheshire captured the cadence, and brought the poem to life. I particularly appreciated the fairly deadpan “Nevermore.” In my view, Poe intended that the single word contrast with the increasingly fevered and desperate agony of the grieving man. 

This was my first time seeing a Theatre in Black production, but I think I may have to see some more. The production was of excellent quality, with a strong focus on artistic values. 

Antigone by Sophokles (Anne Carson translation - CSUB 2019)

I was homeschooled from 2nd grade on, but for my last three years, I used video courses for my subjects. Although the coursework had some flaws, coming from Fundie publisher A-Beka, in general, the teachers were pretty good. I have a particular fondness for Mr. Collins, who taught 10th and 12th grade English. A crusty old guy, he was quietly subversive, going outside Fundie orthodoxy in his teaching (in a subtle way - that’s presumably how he kept his job) and really inspiring a love of literature. I have no idea if he is still living, but in any event, kudos to him for part of my good education.

In that 10th grade class, we studied World Literature, starting with Gilgamesh, but I particularly remember enjoying our study of Antigone. While it appears that most of my peers (and my own kids) get Oedipus Rex, we skipped that one. I wonder if it was because of all the sex in Oedipus, or if the writer of the curriculum just liked Antigone better. Whatever the case, Mr. Collins made sure we knew the backstory before we read the play. (As I said, a bit subversive.) Whatever the reason, though, I was moved by Antigone, and was thrilled when our local university announced that they would be doing it this fall. 

***SPOILERS FOLLOW***

Antigone’s story is both of its time, and timeless. In the aftermath of Oedipus’ death, his sons Eteokles and Polynikes quarrel over the throne. After initially agreeing to alternate years, Eteokles clings to power. Polynikes raises an army and attacks. Both brothers die in the ensuing battle, and Oedipus’ brother Kreon takes the throne. Kreon decides that Polynices’ actions are treason to the city of Thebes, and forbids the burial of his body. I admit some ignorance of Greek thought, but at least to our modern minds (and perhaps to the minds of the Athenian audience the play was directed at) it seems a bit unfair to consider the deal-breaker the good guy, and the other brother the bad guy. 

In any event, Antigone, who is the sister of the two brothers, is horrified at the decree, and takes action - a scandalous thing for a woman to do in that era. She buries her brother, and mourns his death. She then defies Kreon to his face, asserting that Divine Law (as she believes it) to be superior to his human law. Kreon is furious, and orders her shut up alive in a tomb, to die of thirst and starvation. Kreon’s son, Haimon, who is in love with Antigone, please with his father to be reasonable, citing (in addition to personal and moral reasons) the fact that the citizens of Thebes are horrified by his action. This leads to a tremendous fight between the two.

After a soothsayer prophesies doom to Kreon, he has a change of heart, and goes to release her. It is too late, however, as she has hung herself. The damage doesn’t stop there: Haimon, caught between his love for Antigone and his duty to his father, also commits suicide. In despair over the loss of her son, Kreon’s wife, Eurydike, kills herself, leaving Kreon alone - and he goes mad. 

While the specifics of the story may seem a bit outdated - we don’t have kings or primogeniture in 21st Century America - the themes resonate. Both Antigone and Kreon have valid points. Antigone is certainly right that Kreon’s law is unfair and cruel. She is also right, in theory, that sometimes a higher law supersedes a lower law. Whether one considers it a divine decree, or a moral principle, it can and should justify civil disobedience. On the other hand, Kreon is right that if everyone did what they saw fit, rather than followed the law of the land, anarchy would result. After all, humans find agreeing about what the gods want to be an impossible task. 

As the Thebeans and the soothsayer point out, however, the best way is neither anarchy nor cruelty. Laws should be just, and if they are not, they should be changed. Admitting one’s error isn’t weakness (as Kreon insists), but an actual strength. Kreon realizes this too late, and is destroyed by the consequences of his stubbornness. 

Antigone is stubborn too, of course. She knows she will likely die as the result of honoring her brother’s body. But at least Antigone has solid reasons for her actions. She sees through the arbitrary assignment of fault, and insists that morality requires respect for the mortal remains of both of her brothers. She believes the gods require that corpses be treated with respect, and not left for the animals to gnaw. While we may not believe in Zeus and the rest, we moderns generally agree that even the bodies of executed murderers deserve a decent burial. 

There is something awe-inspiring about Antigone. In a highly patriarchal world, she has the huevos to take on the most powerful man in her world. She never flinches, she never blanches, she never cries. She just takes her badass self right up to Kreon’s grill and kicks his butt with her rhetoric. 

This particular production is worth mentioning for several reasons. First, CSUB used the new(ish) Anne Carson translation as the basis for the production. This version is not an attempt at word-for-word translation, but as much a re-imagining of the play. The speeches are much shorter. The total length is just over an hour. There are anachronistic allusions to Hegel and Beckett, as well as modernity in general. But there are also some darn fine lines, and Carson’s experience as a poet makes the play much more, well, poetic, than the usual prose translation. It isn’t rhymed or metered verse, but a modern, free-verse poetry that feels thoroughly unlike prose. 

There are two things that I particularly loved about Carson’s version. First, by updating not just the language, but the way of talking about ideas, she made a play that my kids (even my youngest) could follow without difficulty. Second, the update brings out facets of the drama that might have gone unnoticed, such as the misogyny of Kreon, and his opportunistic lust for power. Both of these were not important to the ancient Greeks, but they strike modern audiences as crucial elements of the tragedy. Sophokles probably intended that we be horrified by Antigone stepping out of her lane, even if she is right. But we can understand her actions not just as “woman is so stricken by disrespect of the gods that she has to act like a man” but as “part of Kreon’s problem is that he thinks he knows better than women.” 

On that note, I must commend Avery Gibson for her outstanding performance in the title role. She commanded the stage whenever she was on it, and brought a simmering fury that could be felt to the last row. I hadn’t seen her in anything before, although she was in a BC production of Into the Woods that the rest of my family saw a few years back. I’d love to see her in other roles. I should mention my favorite line from the play, which is spoken by Antigone about the horror of an unburied body: “sweet sorrymeat for the little lusts of birds.”

Kreon was portrayed by Brian Purcell, who has been in a bunch of local plays and musicals, most recently Crazy For You at Stars. His natural style is kind of a “boy-next-door gee shucks” sort of thing, so this role was something entirely different. I liked the way the character evolved from the seemingly reasonable and calm statesman to the increasingly angry, unpredictable, and paranoid madman. His Kreon was a bit more likeable than average, although it was a bit more difficult to see the calculating politician. The result was that Kreon seems less drunk on power and more a misguided “play by the rules” sort, obsessed with a black and white worldview, in which there are too few shades of grey. 

Other notable performances in smaller parts were Alexandria Dennis as the hapless and humorous Messenger, Amanda Duke as the jaded soothsayer, and Alberto Pelayo as Haimon. 

The use of the Chorus was creative. The members wore masks, and commented both individually and in groups, throwing the poetry around the stage, and deadpanning some great lines. I really enjoyed the way it was done - it made the chorus seem like its own work of art, and not just there to comment and carry the action forward. 

Finally, the set was amazing. It combined a desert wasteland with a decaying Southern mansion. Both the conception of the design and the many hours that must have gone into construction were impressive. 

CSUB has done some intriguing things with drama lately, from the gender-flipped The Importance of Being Earnest to the intimate Eccentricities of a Nightingale. Bakersfield has a thriving arts community, and the future looks bright with so many talented and well-coached young actors coming up through the ranks.  

 

The wonderful set. Bootleg picture by Peter Wonderly.

 Kreon (Brian Purcell), Antigone (Avery Gibson), and Messenger (Alexandria Dennis)

CSUB publicity photo

 Antigone (Avery Gibson), Ismene (Maya Blackstone), and Chorus.

CSUB publicity photo

***

Note on spellings:

I am using the spellings CSUB used for the play, which I believe were also used by Carson. In substituting “k” for the traditional “c,” the correct pronunciation is more obvious. 

Matilda the Musical (Ovation 2019)

I read quite a few Roald Dahl books when I was a kid. However, for some reason, I never did read Matilda. My memory of 35 years ago isn’t terribly detailed, but I am guessing that this was probably the result of a few factors. First, my mom wasn’t fond of truly naughty children in books - and even less fond of stupid parents in books. So, I might have not heard about it because she wasn’t interested in having us read the book. Also, it was marketed (by, say, the book cover) as being a girls’ book - this was the 80s, after all. So it might not have caught my eye, or been placed with other books of interest to girls in the library display. Or maybe I read the back and didn’t find it interesting. Whatever the case was, I didn’t read it. 

However, on a road trip (prior to my starting this blog), we listened to it on audiobook, and I found it quite enjoyable. 

There were a few reasons I was determined to see the local stage version. First, a legal colleague was in it. Second, a few of my musical colleagues were playing in the band. And third, the cast list included some of my favorite local actors. So, we went. 

For those few unfamiliar with the book, Matilda is a seriously precocious child, born into an unappreciative family. Dad is a shady used car salesman, while mom is a former dancer who hates that Matilda essentially ended her career. They can’t understand why she reads books rather than watching “the telly.” When she goes off to school, she makes friends with her teacher, Miss Honey, who appreciates her. And also makes an enemy of the brutal headmaster, Miss Trunchbull. Matilda must find a way to keep her beloved books, while defending her classmates from the wrath of Trunchbull. I won’t spoil the plot. Fortunately, the play hews pretty closely to the book. 

The production we saw was at the Ovation Theater, one of several local theaters in our vibrant arts scene. 

Because Matilda has a large number of children in the cast, I will mention them first. The part of Matilda is a huge one, requiring solid vocal chops and a lot of charisma. This production had two actors alternating in the role. We saw Kya Leyendecker in the role. She was outstanding, and I think worth keeping an eye on as she grows up. 

Kya Levendecker as Matilda 

(All photos: Ovation publicity photo)

I can’t individually mention all the rest, but I was thoroughly impressed with their preparation, acting, and especially their excellent pitch. The kids obviously put in long hours practicing, and their teachers are to be commended. This bodes well for the future of the arts in our town. 

As far as the adult parts, I want to mention a few. First, Braeden Addison, who played multiple parts, including the Russian mobster. He is an Ovation regular, and always makes me smile. Riordan Banks was hilarious as Rudulfo, the dance partner and possible paramour of Matilda’s mother. David Allen (another regular in local theater) as Mr. Wormwood, Matilda’s father, was perfectly cast. And even more perfectly dressed. That loud plaid suit was amazing. Erica Briscoe, as Mrs. Phelps the librarian, turned in a solid performance in one of the few truly straight roles. 

David Allen as Mr. Wormwood (plaid suit), Braeden Addison (kneeling) as Sergei

Tara Haner (blonde in rear) as Mrs. Wormwood, Riordan Banks (right rear) as Rudolfo

 That suit demands a closer look. And that tie...

I may be biased, but I thought that Tara Haner, my legal colleague, was hilarious as Mrs. Wormwood. She portrayed the ditzy dancer as kind of an Oildale meets Keeping Up Appearances low class, high volume sort. Her squeaky voice was perfect - and I am impressed she kept both that and the Cockney accent while both acting and singing. That’s tough stuff, and she nailed it. 

Nancee Steiger (Miss Honey), Riordan Banks (Rudolfo), and Tara Haner (Mrs. Wormwood)

Nancee Steiger (Miss Honey) has long been one of my favorite local actors. It really is a shame she isn’t in more productions. (Past favorites of mine were If/Then, Assassins, and The Glass Menagerie.) As Miss Honey, she nailed the earnestness and deer-in-the-headlights look necessary for the part. 

 

 Dominic Demay (Trunchbull) and Nancee Steiger (Miss Honey)

Finally, I have to commend Dominic Demay for his turn as Trunchbull. He too is an Ovation regular, last seen getting impaled by a slot machine handle (while singing You Make Me Live) in Disaster! I cannot think of a better person to play Trunchbull, as he brought the menace, and the overwhelming stage presence that a Trunchbull requires. Not a bad little flip move either. 

The band deserves some love too - despite difficult logistics (it’s a really small theater), they brought it. Kudos to Ovation for hiring real musicians. 

Matilda runs two more weekends, so if you are local and have a chance, definitely go see it. 

***

Not directly related to the play, but interesting: The Irregulars by Jennet Conant, which is the story of Roald Dahl’s career as a spy in World War Two…against the United States.  

A Gentleman's Guide to Love and Murder by Robert L. Friedman & Steven Lutvak (Stars 2019)

My wife, who has an astounding number of Broadway songs memorized, saw that local theater Stars was doing this musical, and determined that she would go. The kids and I weren’t exactly hard to convince, to say the least. Even if I hadn’t already planned to go, the casting would have been enough to convince me. 

A Gentleman’s Guide to Love and Murder is a rather recent musical - it debuted in 2012 - but it is based loosely on a rather older novel, Israel Rank: The Autobiography of a Criminal by Roy Horniman, written in 1907. The setting of the story itself, apparently Edwardian times, matches that of the book. 

Impoverished commoner, Monty Navarro, has just lost his mother (his father having died when he was a child), when he is visited by a mysterious woman, who reveals to him that he is a member of the aristocratic D’Ysquith family. (Pronounced DIE-skwith - to alliterate well with all the mortality.) His mother ran off with a man who was [gasp!] a commoner, a [shudder] Spaniard, and worse, a musician, [pearl clutching all around] causing her to be disinherited and disowned. Not only is he a member of this illustrious family, there are only eight individuals ahead of him on the path to dukedom. 

His attempts to reconcile with the D’Ysquiths ending in further rejection, Monty happens on a chance inspiration when the Reverend Lord Ezikial D’Ysquith, an inebriated parson, slips and falls to his death while giving Monty a tour. Monty then decides that, hey, why not kill ALL the D’Ysquiths in his way, and become a duke? 

While the first “murder” is, legally speaking, an accident (although Monty is morally at fault for not actively keeping Ezikial from falling), Monty ignores his conscience and sets out to commit deliberate murder. But not directly, really, more by taking advantage of the natural weaknesses of his victims. 

Asquith D’Ysquith Jr. falls through the ice (with a bit of help) while skating with his mistress behind his wife’s back. Henry, the thoroughly gay preppy sort, dies as a result of being stung by the bees he keeps. Lady Hyacinth (“an unmarried woman of a certain age”) who is in search of charitable opportunities to burnish her social reputation, is convinced to set off on an ever more ludicrous set of trips to distant locations which happen to have great hazards, where she disappears. (Although she finally does come back, and Monty is forced to cut the gangplank ropes - and she finally drowns…) Major Bartholomew, the vegetarian bodybuilder, has a few extra weights put on his bar, and accidentally decapitates himself. Lady Salome, a terrible actress, is slipped a real bullet to use in the gun at the end of Ibsen’s Hedda Gabler - which turns out to be the one time she gets good press for her work on stage. 

The last two, though, are not actually murdered by Monty. One dies of a heart attack, while another is poisoned mysteriously by...someone else. And thus, Monty actually gains his goal. 

And finds himself caught between the two women he loves. 

The central schtick of the play is that all of the D’Ysquiths are played by a single actor. In this case, that actor was Kevin McDonald, one of my favorite local actors. (For my thoughts on previous productions he was in, see Twelfth Night, You Can’t Take It With You, The 39 Steps, A Christmas Carol, and Crazy For You. In all, he had to play nine parts - the eight aristocratic D’Ysquiths, plus Chauncy, an even more remote and disowned scion who, it is implied at the end, will try to poison Monty. 

McDonald was outstanding in creating recognizably different roles with body language and voices, not just costumes. And yet, it was obvious that they were all Kevin too. It was a perfect role to show off his range as well as his talent at being stuffy and snooty. I was also impressed with how he handled the vocal work, which is not easy in this case. Like myself, he isn’t a show-stopping soloist with a huge voice, so the key was to stay within his strengths, and let the acting carry the part. The Rex Harrison plan, more or less. Which is exactly what he did. It fit the parts exactly as it should. 

 Assorted D'Ysquiths in the crosshairs of Monty Navarro

The other central part was Monty Navarro, naturally. This part was played by Ken Burdick, who does indeed have a fantastic voice in addition to his acting talent. Way back in the day (don’t ask exactly how long ago…), I used to play with the Bakersfield College orchestra, and Ken played oboe. Since that time, he has been in a good number of other productions, including a performance of rock tunes with the Bakersfield Symphony a couple years back. I remember a few other highlights, such as The Gypsy Baron and Gianni Schicchi at CSUB (the latter of which I played for as well.) Those are just a few of many over the years. He has real classical chops to go with, well, just about anything. In this production, he was electric. I walked away at the end thoroughly impressed with his vocal work. It was in the same class as touring productions I have seen in LA. His acting was great too. My favorite part was the impish little smile and shrug after most of the murders. That killed me. 

Also with major parts were Abby Bowles-Votaw as Monty’s mistress Sibella, and Amanda Locke as Phoebe D’Ysquith, Monty’s eventual wife. In addition to their other scenes, the song “I’ve Decided to Marry You,” with both of them and Monty, was particularly well done. It requires precise timing of movement and sound (the two women are in adjacent rooms as Monty tries to conceal each from the other) yet it has to sound like conversation, not just a set piece song. Kudos as well to director Joe Lowry for setting it up. 

 Sibella, Monty, and Phoebe in "I've Decided to Marry You"

Two other songs that were particularly enjoyable were “I Don’t Understand the Poor,” by McDonald as Lord Adalbert (with assistance from the chorus of spirits of the ancestors), and “Lady Hyacinth,” by McDonald, Burdick, and the ensemble. Both bring out different mockable traits of the upper class which are ripe for satire: the general lack of common ground for empathy with those not born to wealth, and the use of charitable work for social reputation. The lyrics are wicked funny. 

 Charitable work at its...well, something.

The ensemble bears mentioning too. Edgard Aleman, Bridget Gill, James O’Hearn, Hope Ormonde, Kate Whalen Gill, and Jacquiline Salazar had to carry multiple parts as well as the big musical numbers. No part in this musical was easy, even though the ensemble parts can be overlooked. The performance started off with a few hiccoughs in ensemble and pitch, but settled in. The ensemble pulled together, and was on the dot for the rest. Likewise, I appreciated that Stars continues to hire live musicians for their productions. In this case, that mean three string parts, which are so rare these days. 

Oh, and I should mention that the kids greatly enjoyed it. McDonald got particular laughs for the muscle suit he wore as Bartholomew. As he is “fun size” like me, I mentioned to the kids that now they know what I would look like on steroids. The response was that my legs would be bigger. (Sorry, Kevin. But at least know that they have no respect for my dignity either…) 

A Gentleman’s Guide to Love and Murder runs for two more weekends, so if you are a Kern County local, come on out and see it. (Tickets here.) This fall promises to be full of great local theater as well. I know there is no way I can see it all, but will catch the ones I can. 

She Kills Monsters by Qui Nguyen

She Kills Monsters is another of the offbeat productions that local theater, The Empty Space, puts on as part of its season. I was not familiar with it, but it sounded interesting - and the sort of thing my two eldest teens would enjoy, so we went. 

The basic premise is this: Agnes Evans is a young teacher reeling from the death of her parents and younger sister in a car accident. Going through their things, she finds a mysterious book written by her sister Tilly. This book turns out to be an “adventure” for Dungeons & Dragons that Tilly put together before her death. (As we find out later, Tilly had hoped someday to bring Agnes into her world using the adventure, although she expected to be alive and play along in person.) 

Agnes takes the book to the local D&D type store and enlists the seriously nerdy Chuck Biggs (“I’m big where it counts!”) to serve as dungeon master and walk her through the adventure. The adventure comes to life on stage, though, with Tilly and the other characters - and the monsters - portrayed by the actors. In the process, Agnes learns about the sister she never really knew - or cared to know. So, feels and things. But also monsters, sword fights, and a lot of humor. While the premise is inherently tragic, the play is a comedy, or at least a comedy-drama, and the laughs come early and often. 

The dramatic elements were kind of predictable. Brownie points if you guessed that Tilly’s sexuality would be a discovery, that Tilly was beloved by the marginalized kids but tormented by the popular girls, or that Tilly had a love/hate relationship with Agnes. More subtle was the handling of normal teen stuff. Tilly used the adventure to play out her own fantasies - and those of her friends. “Kaliope” (I can’t remember her actual name in the play, just the character) gets to overcome her disability. “Orcus” gets to be scary and powerful rather than hopelessly dorky. Tilly gets to cast her high school nemeses as “bosses” to be destroyed - and also Agnes’ innocent and unwitting boyfriend Miles. 

If the plot was a bit predictable, it was a serviceable vehicle for the humor, which was, in my opinion, the best part. Even my second daughter, who is pretty cynical (she was that way as a toddler, and teenhood hasn’t made her less so) laughed the whole way through. After all, D&D is fundamentally hilarious. As my older daughter said, if you think about it, the whole premise is pretty funny and ludicrous. That isn’t a bad thing. Fantasy is fun, and we humans have always had imaginations. The fact that the Society For Creative Anachronism exists is both amusing and awesome. So we both admire and laugh at things like D&D. 

The humor fell mostly into two categories. First was the general “dorks are funny, and non-dorks trying to be dorks are even funnier” kind of joke. The second was the fact that fantasy is a fertile ground for sexual innuendo. Then, combine dorkage with double entendres, and you have twice the fun. (Case in point, Chuck Biggs and “I’m big where it counts”: he is referring to his brain, but, well, you get the point.) 

I’ll just mention a few of the best jokes. The first is when Agnes is trying to figure out how to play the game, and keeps fighting against the dorkiness. She is expected to choose a proper name. She insists on using “Agnes.” Eventually, Tilly (in the game) tells Agnes to stop being such an asshat. The narrator then explains that “Thus she came to be known as ‘Agnes the Asshatted.’” From then on, whenever Agnes is in the game, she wears a beanie with “#ASS” on it. 

Another series of hilarious moments come when poor Miles walks in on Agnes and Chuck playing, and thinks they are cheating on him. Chuck makes it infinitely worse by his “explanation” which makes sense in the D&D world, but is naughty as hell in the real one. 

I also laughed when “Lillith” walked in, and Agnes takes one look and says, “What the HELL is she wearing?!” 

As usual, The Empty Space brought high artistic values to this play. The set was minimalist but effective. (Basically, a broken brick wall at the back, and paving stones resembling a D&D module painted on the floor. And a counter and two chairs.) The actors brought the usual intensity and commitment to the dialogue. 

The lead, Agnes, was played by Claire Rock. One reason I wanted to see this was that Rock was fantastic as Tybalt a few years ago. This time, playing the straight (on multiple levels) woman, she nicely captured the experience of a “normal” person jumping into D&D unprepared. 

As Tilly, Stevie Mcnabb was also compelling. I give her further bonus points for outstanding fantasy hair. 

Thor Reese (which, ironically, is a better fantasy name than his character, Chuck Biggs) was hilarious as Chuck. It can’t have been easy to deliver all those unintentionally funny lines with a straight face and an innocent air. Also, Reese’s bio in the program is outstanding:

Thor Reece (Chuck Biggs) was born in the back alleys of the city of Waterdeep. Thor learned the art of stealth at a young age. As a member of the deadly assassin group “All The King’s Players,” Thor did many unspeakable acts. In order to practice and hone his ability to blend in Thor would take on the task of assuming the identity of a common pastry chef. Soon Thor would move on and do battle with the army of zombies raised by the wizards of Thay. Finally, to complete his training in the art of blending in Thor would take on the role of a clothing merchant. With all of this training, Thor has truly become a force of nature in the battlefield and in all adventures he takes on.

Special mention to the others in the cast, TES regulars Cheyenne Reyes (Lillith), Jenna Fernandez (Kaliope), and Breanna Alcala (narrator and Vera, the world’s worst high school guidance counselor.) There were a number of new names in bit parts as well, plus a whole crowd of multipurpose monsters and villains. Well done, one and all.

  Lillith (Cheyenne Reyes), Kaliope (Jenna Fernandez), Agnes (Claire Rock), and Tilly (Stevie Mcnabb)

 

Agnes the Asshatted (Claire Rock) and Chuck Biggs (Thor Reese)

The hapless "redshirt" Steve (Connor Wilson), Miles (Richard Van Horne), and Vera, the world's worst guidance counselor (Branna Alcala)

This show runs this weekend as well, so if you are local, go out and see it. 

***

My history with Dungeons & Dragons.

I have mentioned a time or sixteen that I was raised somewhat Fundie. This is one area in which it manifested. My parents were really into Jack Chick and his propaganda tracts. (Among other things, they are anti-science and viciously anti-Catholic.) I wince when I see them at their house, and have had to have conversations with my kids about them. 

Anyway, Chick did a few on the supposed demonic nature of Dungeons & Dragons. The game would give you demons! It would make you commit suicide! It would make you nerdy! Okay, I made the last one up - and it is the only one that is true. Later, in law school, a friend explained how the game worked, and a light came on. It was nothing more than a sophisticated and highly imaginative social game that happened to contain elements of “magic.” Which was, I guess, witchcraft by definition. Ugh. So yeah, changed my mind once I discovered the facts. 

We have played a few adventures, set up by a couple of friends who are more into it than that. The kids had fun. It was cool. Thanks, Erik and Darren!

This does fall in the category of “outright lies I was fed by Fundies as a kid.” Which is one reason I really don’t believe a thing Fundies say anymore.