The Merry Wives of Windsor by William Shakespeare

Because of Covid-19, theaters are closed here in California, and the Utah Shakespeare Festival is cancelled. Thus, I doubt I am going to have many chances to see live theater in the near future. We have been getting by with video sources, even though they are not the same. The Globe in London is releasing filmed performances of various plays, including this one.

We first saw this play at Fresno’s “Shakespeare in the Park” a number of years ago. The kids immediately loved it, what with laundry baskets and all. Critics have not been so enthralled with the play, considering it one of Shakespeare’s weaker works. Audiences and opera composers seem to have sided with my kids rather than the critics. 

 The play features Sir John Falstaff, the debauched and obese knight who steals the show in Henry IV Part I. In fact, Falstaff was so popular that Shakespeare wrote Henry IV Part II in order to cash in on the popularity. (Which proves, by the way, that neither shameless sequels nor cashing in are a new thing.) Eventually, Shakespeare decided to give Sir John his own play. 

 Despite featuring Falstaff and being ostensibly set in the time of Henry IV, the play is really a spoof of 16th Century middle class society. 

Sir John, broke again, decides to mend his fortunes by seducing a wealthy married woman. Well, two of them. He figures he might as well try both and see if he can land one. His buddies refuse to be the messengers, and instead, turn him in to the husbands. One of them laughs it off, but the other takes it all too seriously and is consumed with jealousy. He disguises himself and buddies up to Falstaff, asking him to seduce the wife so that he can have a chance at her after she is already “fallen.” 

Meanwhile, the two wives, who are smarter than any of the men of course, simply compare the love letters, laugh, and decide to play tricks on Falstaff. 

 First, he is forced to hide in a basket of laundry and thrown into the Thames. Then he is disguised as a fat aunt, mistaken for a witch, and beaten soundly. The final humiliation is when he dresses up for a fairy revel in which he is to meet his intended, but is harassed instead by youths paid to give him the business. 

It is hard to really feel too sorry for Falstaff. After all, he is trying to seduce married women. And he is a lech, even by Elizabethan standards. Furthermore, the main injuries are to his ego, not his body. But still, one might find a scrap of sympathy for an old man who is treated infamously. (As he claims.) 

 The secondary plot involves the daughter of one of the women, who is being courted by three men. The one she loves, Fenton, does not meet with the approval of either of her parents. Her mother prefers the French doctor, Caius; while her father prefers the Welsh preacher, Sir Hugh. The two are ludicrous characters, challenging each other to a duel, but are unable to complete it after they are directed to different locations. 

This being a comedy, you know it will end in a satisfactory marriage, and a comeuppance for each of the deserving persons. 

For the most part, the play is slapstick silliness rather than profound psychological analysis. But I did notice one thing in particular this time. The “merry wives” have complex and interesting motives. On the one hand, it is flattering to be pursued, even if by a silly rake like Falstaff. Thus, they play along to a point...not enough to actually cross the line into adultery, but enough to get off a bit on the fun. It is as if they are able to get some of the emotional gratification of an affair, without cheating. In this version, they make a mild nod to S&M in their flirtation. 

 Shakespeare also gets a lot of humor out of the class and nationality differences. His Welshman is nearly unintelligible, and his French doctor is so full of botched Latin and worse English that the London audiences of his day must have laughed themselves silly. For American audiences of today, some of the humor is lost perhaps, but at least poking fun at the French and Welsh doesn’t seem mean-spirited like it might have in Shakespeare’s day. Being either French or Welsh in America of the 21st Century doesn’t carry negative social consequences to any significant degree. 

The Globe version was set more or less in the 1930s, as far as fashion. In spirit, of course, it could be anywhere - or any place. While in general the acting was good, I particularly liked the interaction between Falstaff and the wives. All three parts were filled by fairly big names. Pierce Quigley (with a long list of stage and screen credits) played Falstaff. My only quibble with him is that he is too thin, even with a fat suit. But he did bring a good vibe to the part, sympathetic, calculating, egotistical, and wounded in turn. (The best Falstaff I have ever seen, though, is still Tom Hanks, at a live performance of the Henry plays in Los Angeles. That was just amazing.)

Pierce Quigley and Bryony Hannah

Sarah Finigan and Bryony Hannah, as Mistress Page and Mistress Ford respectively, were hilarious. Their characters were clearly having way too much fun with their tricks, and they were totally believable as co-conspirators. I did not know much about either, but Finigan is also a veteran actor both on stage and screen, while Hannah is best known for her work on Call the Midwife. She is pretty tiny compared to the other actors (who themselves aren’t huge, actually) and looked the part of the little British housewife. 

 As with all Globe productions, the live music was fun. In this case, mostly Dixieland Jazz from a small ensemble. The dance numbers were definitely old New Orleans, with extravagant Mardi Gras costumes. Overall, it was good fun, and well done. 

 

 

 

The Rivals by Richard Sheridan

Source of book: I own this. 

 It is hard to believe it has been eight years since I read The School for Scandal, in connection with the Bakersfield Symphony’s performance of Barber’s delightful overture. That play, with its wicked (and not always very nice) wit is considered Sheridan’s best work. The Rivals came first, and is less of a social satire and more of a straight up farce. Today, it is best known for the term “malapropism,” from the character Mrs. Malaprop, who is constantly using words which sound like the word she intends, but means something quite different. 

 Let’s see if I can summarize the plot a bit:

 Young heiress Lydia Languish has read a few too many romance novels (of the 1700s), and longs for a scandalous elopement with “ensign Beverly,” who is really Captain Jack Absolute, the son of a wealthy aristocrat. Lydia’s guardian, Mrs. Malaprop, and Jack’s father, Sir Anthony, want them to marry, but Lydia refuses, citing her love for “Beverly.” When Lydia eventually discovers “Beverly” is really Jack, she scorns him.

 Meanwhile, Lydia is pursued by two other suitors: the ridiculous country gentleman Bob Acres (a friend of Captain Jack), and even more ludicrous Irish soldier, Lucius O’Trigger. Lucius has been writing letters to “Delia,” who he thinks is Lydia, but Lydia’s maid Lucy has been giving them to Mrs. Malaprop instead, who thinks her mystery lover is madly in love with her. 

 In addition to this mess, Jack’s friend Faulkland is courting Julia, but is irrationally jealous and suspicious of her fidelity. They quarrel continually about this throughout the play. 

Acres finds out that he has a rival, “Beverly,” to his affections for Lydia. Lucius talks him into challenging “Beverly” to a duel - although neither of them realizes “Beverly” is really Jack. The duel goes south really fast once everyone realizes who everyone else is, and Sir Anthony arrives with the women to break it up and set everyone right. Well, except for Lucius, who is horrified at being punked.

From my Heritage Press hardback: illustration by Rene Ben Sussan

The fun of the play isn’t the plot, though. It is the sparkling and witty dialogue. I was tempted to write down so many more quotes than these, but I restrained myself. 

 Lydia inquires of her maid, Lucy, what books she has brought back. 

LYDIA: Heigh-ho! Did you inquire for The Delicate Distress?

LUCY: Or, The Memoirs of Lady Woodford? Yes, indeed, ma’am. I asked everywhere for it; and I might have brought it from Mr. Frederick’s, but Lady Slattern Lounger, who had just sent it home, had so soiled and dog’s-eared it, it wa’n’t fit for a Christian to read. 

LYDIA: Heigh-ho! Yes, I always know when Lady Slattern has been before me. She has a most observing thumb; and, I believe, cherishes her nails for the convenience of making marginal notes.

 Not only is this deliciously naughty innuendo, it is proof that those evil reprobates who dog-ear books have been a problem for at least the last 250 years. 

 Mrs. Malaprop, furious that Lydia has refused to marry Jack (not realizing he is “Beverly”), complains to his father. 

MRS. MALAPROP: There, Sir Anthony, sits the deliberate simpleton who wants to disgrace her family, and lavish herself on a fellow not worth a shilling. 

LYDIA: Madam, I thought you once--

MRS. MALAPROP: You thought, miss! I don’t know any business you have to think at all--thought does not become a young woman. But the point we would request of you is, that you will promise to forget this fellow--to illiterate him, I say, quite from your memory. 

 And later:

 

MRS. MALAPROP: What business have you, miss, with preference and aversion? They don’t become a young woman; and you ought to know, that as both always wear off, ‘tis safest in matrimony to begin with a little aversion. I am sure I hated your poor dear uncle before marriage as if he’d been a blackamoor--and yet, miss, you are sensible what a wife I made!--and when it pleased Heaven to release me from him, ‘tis unknown what tears I shed! 

 Sir Anthony chimes in:

 

SIR ANTHONY: It is not to be wondered at, ma’am,--all this is the natural consequence of teaching girls to read. Had I a thousand daughters, by Heaven! I’d as soon have them taught the black art as their alphabet!

 This play was written during the early days of first wave feminism - and it is true that when women were able to gain an education, they did seem to develop ideas of self-determination. Weird how that happens. The pinnacle of the scene is Mrs. Malaprop’s monologue, complete with butchery of the language. 

 

MRS. MALAPROP: Observe me, Sir Anthony. I would by no means wish a daughter of my to be a progeny of learning; I don’t think so much learning becomes a young woman; for instance, I would never let her meddle with Greek, or Hebrew, or algebra, or simony, or fluxions, or paradoxes, or such inflammatory branches of learning--neither would it be necessary for her to handle any of your mathematical, astronomical, diabolica instruments.--But, Sir Anthony, I would send her, at nine years old, to a boarding-school, in order to learn a little ingenuity and artifice. Then, sir, she should have a supercilious knowledge in accounts;--and as she grew up, I would have her instructed in geometry, that she might know something of the contagious countries;--but above all, Sir Anthony, she should be the mistress of orthodoxy, that she might not mis-spell, and mis-pronounce words, so shamefully as girls usually do; and likewise that she might reprehend the true meaning of what she is saying. This, Sir Anthony, is what I would have a woman know--and I don’t think there is a superstitious article in it.

 Later in the play, Fag, Jack’s amusing and morally suspect servant, mentions that he has lied to cover for Jack. And has invented a whole story with characters. 

 

FAG: And, in tenderness to my character, if your honour could bring in the chairmen and waiters, I should esteem it as an obligation; for though I never scruple a lie to serve my master, yet it hurts one’s conscience to be found out.

 In a later scene, Jack and Acres are teasing Faulkland about Julia, and how she failed to act miserable while he was gone. Rather, she continued to attend dances and the like and enjoy herself. 

 

FAULKLAND: Well, well, I’ll contain myself--perhaps as you say--for form sake.--What, Mr. Acres, you were praising Miss Melville’s manner of dancing a minuet--hey?

ACRES: Oh, I dare insure her for that--but what I was going to speak of was her country dancing. Odds swimmings! She has such an air with her.

 Faulkland is horrified. But when he talks of jigs and reels, the audience knows this isn’t about literal dancing. This is a dirty pun which is, sadly, neglected these days. You can find it (among other places) in Hamlet, where Hamlet talks about “lying between maid’s legs.” Acres is clearly feeding Faukland’s paranoia with jokes about Julia sleeping around. I won’t quote all of it, but the following dialogue is just rife with naughty puns. “The action of their pulse beats to the lascivious movement of the jig--their quivering, warm-breathed sighs impregnate the very air--the atmosphere becomes electrical to love, and each amorous spark darts through every link of the chain!” 

 Another brilliant bit of dialogue is between Jack and his father, when Sir Anthony is pressuring Jack to agree to marry the woman Sir Anthony desires - sight unseen. 

 

CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE: If my happiness is to be the price, I must beg leave to decline the purchase.--Pray, sir, who is the lady?

SIR ANTHONY: What’s that to you, sir?--Come, give me your promise to love, and to marry her directly.

CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE: Sure, sir, this is not very reasonable, to summon my affections for a lady I know nothing of!

SIR ANTHONY: I am sure, sir, ‘tis more unreasonable in you to object to a lady you know nothing of. 

 Although I could quote from every single line by Mrs. Malaprop, perhaps the one with the most malapropisms per inch is this one:

 

MRS. MALAPROP: You are very good and considerate, captain. I am sure I have done everything in my power since I exploded the affair; long ago I laid my positive conjunctions on her, never to think on the fellow again;--I have since laid Sir Anthony’s preposition before her; but, I am sorry to say, she seems resolved to decline every particle that I enjoin her. 

CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE: It must be very distressing, indeed, ma’am.

MRS. MALAPROP: Oh! it gives me the hydrostatics to such a degree.--I thought she had persisted from corresponding with him; but, behold, this very day, I have interceded another letter from the fellow; I believe I have it in my pocket. 

Also fun is the sequence of scenes with Bob Acres, after Lucius has convinced him he needs to duel with “Beverly.” Acres’ servant, David, tries to talk him out of it. 

 

ACRES: But my honour, David, my honour! I must be very careful of my honour.

DAVID: Ay, by the mass! and I would be very careful of it; and I think in return my honour couldn’t do less than to be very careful of me.

ACRES: Odds blades! David, no gentleman will ever risk the loss of his honour!

DAVID: I say then, it would be but civil in honour never to risk the loss of a gentleman.--Look’ee, master, this honour seems to me to be a marvellous false friend: ay, truly, a very courtier-like-servant.--Put the case, I was a gentleman (which, thank God, no one can say of me); well--my honour makes me quarrel with another gentleman of my acquaintance.--So--we fight. (Pleasant enough that!) Boh;--I kill him--(the more’s my luck!) now, pray who gets the profit of it?--Why, my honour. But put the case that he kills me!--by the mass! I go to the worms, and my honour whips over to my enemy.

 At the time this was written, dueling was still a common practice, but it was losing favor. Sheridan was one of those who turned it from a form of gentlemanly distinction to a mockable affectation. As Oscar Wilde would later say, violence has its fascination when wicked, but not when it is ridiculous. This is obvious in the dueling scene, where Lucius keeps trying to whip up Acres and Jack into fighting, when it is clear that Acres is too scared, and Jack has no intention of quarreling. 

 

SIR LUCIUS: [Goes up to Captain Absolute.] With regard to that matter, captain, I must beg leave to differ in opinion with you.

CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE: Upon my word, then, you must be a very subtle disputant:--because, sir, I happened just then to be giving no opinion at all. 

SIR LUCIUS: That’s no reason. For give me leave to tell you, a man may think an untruth as well as speak one.

CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE: Very true, sir; but if a man never utters his thoughts, I should think they might stand a chance of escaping controversy. 

SIR LUCIUS: Then, sir, you differ in opinion with me, which amounts to the same thing.

 Near the end, as everything gets sorted out, Lydia pouts and says she refuses to marry Jack. 

 

LYDIA: Why, is it not provoking? when I thought we were coming to the prettiest distress imaginable, to find myself made a mere Smithfield bargain of at last! There, had I projected one of the most sentimental elopements!--so becoming a disguise!--so amiable a ladder of ropes!--Conscious moon--four horses--Scotch parson--with such surprise to Mrs. Malaprop--and such paragraphs in the newspapers!--Oh, I shall die with disappointment!

Of course, everything works out in the end, even if we are denied the fun of imagining Lucius O’Trigger hitched to Mrs. Malaprop. 

By the way, a “Smithfield Bargain” is “a marriage of convenience in which the size of the marriage settlement is the determining factor.” Poor Lydia finds herself, despite her best efforts, marrying for money as well as love. Poor baby. 

 The play is intentionally silly - it’s more of a straight-up comedy than a real satire - although the pokes at the misogynist old folks remain funny. The School for Scandal is a better satire, but it is more mean-spirited than The Rivals, which more gently pokes fun at its characters. And, of course, Mrs. Malaprop never gets old. 

 

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.  

The Mikado by Gilbert and Sullivan (Pacific Opera Project 2019)

My wife has been a Gilbert and Sullivan fan probably since birth, and, as with Broadway shows, she has vast swaths of the lyrics memorized. Alas, even in the cultural Mecca of California, live G&S shows have been hard to come by. We did go see a local version of HMS Pinafore years ago - probably before kids - that had a live piano accompaniment. (By the delightful Warren Dobson, now with the Gaslight Melodrama.) However, that has been it. So we watched movie versions, listened to soundtracks, and kept an eye open for more. 

A musician colleague of mine forwarded the schedule for the Pacific Opera Project (she played for one of their larger orchestras), and we snapped up tickets to see The Mikado. 

This particular production was at a fairly intimate venue in Highland Park (off of Los Angeles’ oldest freeway), and was done in a brightly colored Harajuku Style. Which was a lot of fun. Also appreciated was the use of a live orchestra - a very small orchestra (12 instruments), due to space constraints - but an orchestra nonetheless. The musicians were under part of the set, but on the back of the stage, which meant we could see a bit when they were not blocked by actors. 

 My wife got this picture - POP allows pictures as long as you don't annoy your fellow patrons.

For those unfamiliar with The Mikado, it combines a love story with satire of bureaucracy and British institutions. The lovely Yum-Yum is engaged to marry her guardian, Ko-Ko, who has escaped a death sentence for “flirting” by agreeing to become the Lord High Executioner of Titipu. Since Ko-Ko himself is under a death sentence, the theory is that he cannot execute anyone until he first executes himself, thus making the other flirts safe. Yum-Yum does not love him - he’s at least twice her age - but prefers the dashing Nanki-Poo, a handsome young musician. Okay, he is just disguised as a musician, but is really the son of the Mikado, on the lam his father and an arranged marriage to the ancient and overbearing Katisha. The town of Titipu is ruled (if that is what you can call it) by Pooh-Bah, who holds literally every position except that of executioner. The Mikado finds out that no executions have been done, and threatens to eliminate Ko-Ko’s job and demote Titipu to the status of village. (As Pooh-Bah quips in one of the many “updates” to the script, “We will be known as the Village People.”) Nanki-Poo is in despair over Yum-Yum’s engagement, and prepares to kill himself. Ko-Ko sees an opportunity to find someone else to execute other than himself. But then the Mikado shows up looking for his son, and, well things get awkward for everyone. This being a comedy (and Gilbert and Sullivan), it has to end well. And humorously. 

We brought the kids along to this one, in part because the tickets (if you sit in the cheap seats rather than at a dinner table) are shockingly affordable. And because the kids love live theater and know many of the songs already. We all very much enjoyed ourselves. I will add that even though ours were the only kids there, the staff was courteous and welcoming. 

The production was outstanding - I can’t really think of anything to complain about. The balance of voices and orchestra was good, the enunciation solid (which is not easy in G&S), and both acting and singing were enjoyable. 

E. Scott Levin played the part of Ko-Ko, and, now that I am back home, I realize that he has performed with us at the Bakersfield Symphony Orchestra. (A quick search and it appears he was Don Bartolo in our concert version of The Barber of Seville. And I think Don Giovanni before that.) Anyway, he was great when he was with us, and was delightful in The Mikado as well. As in, really hilarious. Great comic timing and acting. Mr. Levin, if you somehow run across this post, here’s a hello from Bakersfield. All the best. 

 Selfie time for Nanki-Poo, Ko-Ko, and Yum-Yum. POP publicity photo.

Phil Meyer as Pooh-Bah deserves a mention, if for no other reason than the opening line in his bio: “Phil Meyer’s opera repertory consists of Bad Guys, Old Guys, and Funny Guys.” Which is exactly what a tall baritone tends to get cast as. It’s the nature of opera. 

  

 Pish, Tush, Nanki-Poo, and Pooh-Bah. POP publicity photo.

Good work from Charlie Kim (Nanki-Poo) Janet Todd (Yum-Yum) as the romantic leads. I should also mention Matthew Ian Welch as The Mikado, who was clearly the best dancer on stage. (Not to denigrate the others.) His performance was electric, and overcame my eight-year-old’s drowsiness at the end of the late night. 

 All hail the Mikado ("Ah so!")

The Pacific Opera Project tries to put interesting spins on the operas they do, including a few lyrical changes with modern references. In this case, that meant that characters took selfies, and complained about people who take selfies. There were two songs just perfect for these modern touches. The first was “I’ve Got A Little List.” 

As some day it may happen that a victim must be found

I've got a little list — I've got a little list

Of society offenders who might well be underground

And who never would be missed — who never would be missed!

Instead of the annoyances in the original, these were filled up with modern blighters, recognizable to anyone who has lived in Los Angeles. They included such persons as those who pick political fights on social media, instagramers, and - a marvelous touch - those who add apostrophes where they do not belong. And people who think we’d be safer with a wall. (Well played.) 

This theme is continued in “Let the Punishment Fit The Crime.” The familiar driver (presumably in a BMW) weaving in and out of traffic (anyone who grew up in LA knows what I am talking about) gets condemned to walk...or suffer through LA’s abysmally incomplete public transportation system. 

There were more that were funny, but I can’t recall them all now, alas. In any case, well done guys and gals. 

I mentioned the set and costumes briefly, but wanted to say a bit about that. The colors were so bright and saturated that the world on stage seemed unworldly. Not Japan or England or Los Angeles, but perhaps Wonderland. Pretty much every character had a fan as a prop, and these were used to great effect. Snapping open and closed on the beat and as punctuation, they reinforced the acting and emotions. As a metaphor, they added an extra layer. Pooh-Bah, who has his titles, but is hapless in doing any of his jobs, can’t master his fan. Eventually, he shows up with a comically tiny fan, perhaps to represent his diminished ego in the presence of the Mikado. 

 Snap those fans, ladies!

In contrast, Katisha (played with impressive dourness by Adelaide Sinclair), unfolds a ludicrously giant fan upon her appearance. It goes well with her booming deep voice and overwhelming personality. She towers over Nanki-Poo, and even causes Pooh-Bah to shrink. (And, of course, keeps talking over the Mikado to his great annoyance and to the amusement of everyone else.) 

 Never mess with a woman with a giant fan. Ko-ko is giving it his best effort, though...

Another interesting touch was making the character of Pish-Tush into two. Well, almost two. In point of fact, he becomes a pair of Siamese twins (Pish and Tush), who finish each other’s sentences. 

There are so many other things I could say, but this has already gotten long. It was a good time, the operetta was well done, and we want to go back again. 

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. 

Disaster! (Ovation Theater 2019)

Ovation Theater had a special for Father’s Day weekend, so we decided to take a chance and go see this. The basic premise is a send-up of 1970s disaster movies, built around iconic music from the era. Make no mistake, the lines are cheesy, the dialogue silly, and everything is way over the top. There were some flaws in the execution. But it was fun. 

The musical takes place on a casino boat, run by the shady Tony (Jason McClain). A variety of characters happen to be on board. Reporter Marianne (Nichole Michelle) tries to uncover illegal operating conditions on the boat. Dour disaster expert Ted (Rikk Cheshire) attempts to warn the passengers and crew of impending disaster. Sister Mary Downy (Renee Cleek) tries to warn everyone they are going to hell - even as she fights her own gambling addiction. Faded Disco star Levora Verona (Caitlin Wolfenstein) hopes to banish her debts with a lucky chance. Older couple Maury and Shirley (real life couple Adam & Terri Cline) are hoping to celebrate retirement. Also featured are dancer Jackie (Erika Kimmel) and her twin children Lisa and Ben (both played by Ellie King), waiters Chad and Scott (Derrek Reed and Dominic Demay), and assorted minor crew and guests.

Never exactly explained is how the combination of poor pier construction and disco dancing is expected to trigger an earthquake and tsunami - the idea is supposed to be silly of course. But disaster does come, and the characters must find a way to survive...or not.

The plot itself exists primarily to set up the songs. Which are used mostly in completely inappropriate ways. For example, “You’re My Best Friend” by Queen, sung by an impaled and dying Scott. Or “Torn Between Two Lovers” sung by Sister Mary Downy to describe the call of religion and the slot machine. Or a dispute about whose watch is more accurate (while the boat is sinking, of course) leading to “25 or 6 to 4.” That’s to say nothing of “Feelings,” or “Knock Three Times.” Part of the fun was trying to guess which song was being set up by the dialogue. (It’s rather like trying to guess the punchline of a terrible pun.)

As I noted, there was some unevenness to this production. One of the good parts was the use of a live band. (I also knew some of the musicians - it’s a close musical community in this town.) The downside to this was that disco beats (from my former community college orchestra director Robbie Martinez) can only be played at a certain volume level. With a small space and limited backstage, this meant that sound levels were challenging. Additionally, we had a very enthusiastic person behind us, who laughed or cheered during dialogue or songs - which we then missed. Keeping the vocals audible was a challenge - I appreciate that, having been there myself. The other issue that the mixing posed was a certain disconnect between the band and vocals. They couldn’t see each other (except, presumably on video), and the singers had a bit of difficulty finding the pitch with the drums and bass louder than the midrange.

On the plus side, the actors didn’t mail this one in, but really bought into the cheese. Performances were rather over the top and exaggerated - exactly what was needed in this case. I particularly thought Derrek Reed as Chad was hilarious during his musical numbers. In general, the others were somewhere between decent and excellent.

Just a few other things to mention. The ongoing gag of Ben and Lisa - with quick hair changes being the only way you could tell them apart - including some visual gags involving hands - was pretty funny. Likewise, the use of disembodied arms and legs. And piranhas.

Anyway, we found it entertaining in a silly way. As did the kids. If you are a Kern County local, the show runs the next two weekends.

https://theovationtheatre.com/disaster/

The Misanthrope by Moliere (Shafter Ford Theater)

A nouveau riche attempts to acquire high culture and makes a fool of himself. A health-obsessed hypochondriac falls for a series of quack doctors and their remedies. A religious huckster preys on foolish aristocracy to obtain money and sexual favors. A young, snarky hipster mocks everything and anything, but finds nothing to believe in - not even his own misanthropy.

Are these plots from the late Twentieth Century perhaps? Quite the contrary. They come from the Seventeenth Century comédies Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme [The Would-be Gentleman], Le Malade Imaginaire [The Hypochondriac], Tartuffe, and Le Misanthrope, by Jean-Baptiste Poquelin, commonly known by his stage name, Molière.

The above is quoted from my first blog post on Molière, wherein I examined The School for Husbands. I have loved Moliere ever since I read Tartuffe as part of my high school literature curriculum. That scathing indictment of religious hucksters and foolish people who fall for their smarm seems ever-so-relevant today. In fact, most of Molière’s best known works have aged extremely well: human nature hasn’t changed all that much in the last 400 years. We still have the same weaknesses, and we still seem to go for the same charlatans and fall for the same fallacies.

I have seen three different Molière plays live over the years. The Empty Space did a production of Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme years ago, with Bob Kempf in the title role. (He was hilarious.) Theatricum Botanicum presented an adaptation (by Constance Congdon) of Le Malade Imaginaire three years ago, and we took the kids to that one. And, also a while back, our local university did a marvelous version of Le Misanthrope. Basically, if I see Molière on tap at a reasonably local theater, I’m there.

So, when I saw that long-time Bakersfield College theater professor turned Anglican minister Randy Messick was directing Le Misanthrope in Shafter, I knew I had to find a way to go.

This was my first time at this particular theater. It is fairly new, built in the last couple of years, and (presumably) financed by the Starrh family - who must have spent quite a pretty penny over the years on the Colours Festival (I’ve played in the orchestra for that for several years) and other arts-related stuff in Shafter. However, it did (at least in this production) feature local actors that I had seen elsewhere. If Messick is involved, I am sure the artistic values will be high.

So, about this production. Unlike the CSUB version, which used a contemporary setting, more or less (Hipster coffee shop culture…), this one went for the original time period and costumes. The music was slightly anachronistic, using Mozart rather than Lully (Molière’s original collaborator.) But it actually fit pretty well.

I am not sure of the specifics, but illness led to the lead character, Alceste, being played by local thespian and teacher Kevin Ganger reading off the script. I am assuming he was a last-minute fill in. Reading is never ideal, but Ganger is a pro, and nailed the cynical and obnoxious tone just fine anyway.

 Philinte (Nolan Long), Alceste (Kevin Ganger), Eliante (Shelbe McClain)

As Alceste’s best friend, the likeable everyman Philinte, Nolan Long brought an earnestness and equanimity that contrasted nicely with Alceste’s misanthropy. Long has been a regular at TES, and has shown a nice range from comedic bit parts to earnest leads to villains. I’m always happy to see his name in the cast.

Celemene is the main female character. She is frivilous, flirtations, and utterly untrustworthy. She does her best to string along multiple guys, telling each that he is her true love, while doing the same for the others. Alceste, naturally, is dead gone for her - opposites attract in this case. I think Karisma Normandin has been in the cast of something or another local - in a bit part - but she was fantastic in this role. Her over-the-top costume and her over-the-top Betty Boopishness was hilarious.

Celemene (Karisma Normandin) and Oronte (John Spitzer)

The cast was filled out by a few others. John Spitzer was Oronte, the young social climber with the ludicrous wig which strongly resembled the Pointy Haired Boss from Dilbert. Scott Deaton played Clitandre, the smarmy and elderly aristocrat with a bit too much French effeminacy for his own good. Shelbe McClain - another versatile local theater regular - took the role of Eliante, the sensible woman who is invisible to Alceste, but the perfect match for Philinte. She gets some of the absolute best lines in the play, as the observer (the Chorus, perhaps) of the other characters’ foibles. Leslie Aldridge played the prudish Arsinoe (complete with ludicrous prosthetic nose) to good effect. Arsinoe is one of the funniest characters, as her self-righteous (if somewhat accurate) condemnation of Celemene is matched only by her imperfectly suppressed sexual voracity. A couple of servants and officers had bit parts as well.

 Celemene and Arsinoe (Leslie Aldridge)

 Eliante, Clitandre (Scott Deaton), Alceste, Celemene

There are some outstanding lines in this play. I wish I could quote at length, but I really prefer that people read the whole thing. Or, better yet, go see a Molière play live. I am not sure which translation Messick used as the basis for his adaptation (ALL productions you are likely to see have been adapted, as the originals required songs, ballet numbers, and other stuff that rather interrupts the plot…) but I am using my own Franklin hardback version, translated by Donald M. Frame. One thing I did note was that the parts of Oronte and Acaste have been combined and remixed with Clitandre - which works fine, considering they are both young noblemen seeking Celemene’s love. Here is a good example of the wit.

Clitandre: You glow with satisfaction, dear Marquis:

You’re free from worriment and full of glee.

But do you think you’re seeing things aright

In taking such occasion for delight?

Acaste (Oronte): My word! When I regard myself, I find

No reason for despondency of mind.

I’m rich, I’m young, I’m of a family

With some pretension to nobility…

…

My wit is adequate, my taste discerning,

To judge and treat all subjects without learning…

This is just one of the many witty exchanges in the play. One more is worth quoting here. Alceste is trying to convince the others that if you truly love someone, you will see - and try to correct - their every fault. Yep, that sure sounds like a plan for marital bliss, right? The far more sensible Eliante understands the truth far better.

Acaste (Oronte): Her charms and grace are evident to me;

But any faults I fear I cannot see.

Alceste: I see them all; she knows the way I feel;

My disapproval I do not conceal.

Loving and flattering are worlds apart;

The least forgiving is the truest heart;

And I would send these soft suitors away,

Seeing they dote on everything I say,

And that their praise, complaisant to excess,

Encourages me in my foolishness.

Celemene: In short, if we’re to leave it up to you,

All tenderness in love we must eschew;

And love can only find its true perfection

In railing at the objects of our affection.

Eliante: Love tends to find such laws somewhat austere,

And lover always brag about their dear;

Their passion never sees a thing to blame,

And everything is lovely in their flame:

They find perfection in her every flaw,

And speak of her with euphemistic awe.

The pallid one’s the whitest jasmine yet;

The frightful dark one is a sweet brunette;

The spindly girl is willowy and free;

The fat one bears herself with majesty;

The dowdy one, who’s ill endowed as well,

Becomes a careless and neglectfull belle;

The giantess is a divinity;

The dwarf, a heavenly epitome;

With princesses the proud one can compete;

The tricky one has wit; the dull one’s a sweet;

The tireless talker’s charmingly vivacious;

The mote girl modest, womanly, and gracious.

Thus every man who loves beyond compare

Loves even the defects of his lady fair.

That manages to be both hilarious, witty, satirical, and sweet at the same time.

I mentioned the costumes briefly. These were made by a local artisan, Jennifer Keller at Fantasy Frocks. As such, they were ludicrous and delightful, totally overboard and perfect. Between the dresses with an obscene number of bows and the foppish wigs, the production was aided by the costumes.

I should also mention the running gag where the servant girl (Basque, played by Cheyenne Reyes) used a different percussion instrument to announce guests each time. The bell to start with - normal enough. But then, a triangle, various cymbals, castanets, drums, and more. It was a nice humorous touch for those who paid attention.

Before the play, Messick came out to talk briefly about it, and asked if anyone had seen Molière before. I think he was surprised to hear that Amanda and I had see three live productions before this one, and were quite familiar with Molière. I am sad that he isn’t better known. He was indeed the French Shakespeare, and, if his language wasn’t as revolutionary and profound, his grasp of human nature and eye for the details of hypocrisy set him apart as one of the all time greats. Seriously, if you get the chance, go see one of his plays. And if not, read one. You might be surprised that, under the 17th Century surface, Molière’s satire seems as if it could be written in our own times.