It's a Wonderful Art Form

Posted by Bruce Miller
I confess. I’ve never enjoyed opera. I take no pride in admitting this. I consider it a grave shortcoming.

It’s not from lack of trying. I’ve seen great opera. In the early 1970s, I trekked northward with a group of fellow theatre students from U of R to see Norman Treigle’s legendary performance at New York City Opera in the title role of Boito's Mefistofele. The fires of hell left me cold.

I’ve attended Verdi’s La Traviata at the Met; Offenbach’s Tales of Hoffmann at the Baltimore Opera Company; and Puccini’s Madama Butterfly, Tosca and La Bohème, Donizetti’s Lucia di Lammermoor and Mozart’s The Marriage of Figaro at the Virginia Opera. Others in the audience were enraptured and on the edge of their seats. I was the brain-dead imbecile fighting to stifle a yawn.

All hope is not lost. I loved Menotti’s Amahl and the Night Visitors on TV as a child. I was dazzled and captivated by the scenes from Mozart’s The Magic Flute included in the film of Amadeus. Stephen Sondheim is called “operatic” by many. I hang on every note he’s ever written.

I’ve come to believe the reason I don’t cotton to opera is because, to me, it goes against so much of what I love about theatre. Great theatre seems “real” to me. Great opera frequently seems “fake.” I hear others say this about musicals and I think they’re insane. I guess it’s all about where we come from. So don’t yell at me. I’m admitting to a dearth of intelligence, taste and sophistication. It’s not opera’s fault; it’s mine.

I write this confession, this mea culpa, as prelude to this: I know there will be some in the world who are so enamored of action/adventure and spectacle that Scotty Wichmann’s one-man performance in This Wonderful Life, which opened last night at Barksdale Willow Lawn, may seem "slow" or "small" or "tame." I suspect these same people won’t watch the original Frank Capra film unless it is colorized and even then keep waiting for the car chase and the explosions.

I suppose they're entitled to their opinions, but I really don't share them.

I’m a terrible cry baby and I’m ashamed to be. No matter how hard I try to keep my cheeks dry, it gets worse the further into my dotage I advance. I’m easily and instantly overcome by sentiment. My one consolation is that my father, a.k.a. “the greatest guy who ever lived,” was the same way. He couldn’t make it through a blessing at the Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner table without becoming so feklempt he was unable to speak.

Last night I’m not sure which made me cry more—the heartfelt sentiment of one of my favorite Christmas stories, or the one hour and 50 minute glimpse I had into the utter majesty of this art form to which I have devoted my life. I don’t want to overstate things so as to build up unreasonable expectations, but in this case I don’t see how overstatement is possible. Scott’s performance is brilliant. He should be on Broadway. He should win a Tony. Richmond is unbelievably fortunate to have him in our midst.

And to be just, it’s not solely about Scott. John Moon’s direction is invisible and outstanding. Every detail--and it’s all about the details--is just right. The pacing is perfect and the ebb and flow of emotion couldn’t be better. Lynne Hartman’s light design is world-class and adds immeasurably to the art. There must be 150 light cues illuminating Adam Karavatakis’s tasteful, evocative and effective set and Sue Griffin’s spot-on costume(s).

Which brings me to Rick Brandt, our stage manager. Do you know how hard it is to call a show that has a different sound or light cue every few seconds? And the irreplaceable Linwood Guyton, our sound and light op. Do you have any idea how crazy you can get trying to focus on and perfectly execute that many rapid fire cues?

Last night went off without a hitch and EVERYONE involved should be intensely proud. This is masterful storytelling at its very finest. I feel so gratified and grateful. Christmas is here; theatre is wonderful and life-changing; all’s right with the world.

I know. My passions are out of control and over the top. Talk about operatic. I’ll stop writing now.

Hope to see you at the theatre! I’ll be the one with the handkerchief poised and ready.

--Bruce Miller

Word of the Week - HALLOING

Posted by Hannah Miller
On Saturday March 22, the world wished a very happy 78th birthday to STEPHEN JOSHUA SONDHEIM, so this edition of Word of the Week is created in his honor. This week’s word is HALLOING.

Stephen Sondheim is one of the most respected composers and lyricists of the 20th century. He has won more Tony Awards than any other composer on Broadway. Sondheim developed his love for theatre and music after attending his first musical at the age of nine. He was hooked when the curtain rose and a piano was revealed.

Never fitting easily with his parents, Sondheim spent many afternoons learning from his “surrogate father,” Oscar Hammerstein II, of Rodgers and Hammerstein fame. The Hammersteins and the Sondheims lived near each other on the upper West Side of NYC. When Sondheim wrote By George, a musical for his high school, Hammerstein spent an entire day teaching him what he could do to make the musical better. In Sondheim’s words, he “learned more about songwriting and the musical theatre” in that one afternoon “than most people learn in a lifetime.” Sondheim continued his apprenticeship with Hammerstein until he left New York to attend Williams College in Massachusetts.

In 1957, Sondheim made history by writing the lyrics to West Side Story, and then to Gypsy in 1959. Though both of these shows brought him great success as a lyricist, Sondheim knew that what he really wanted to do was compose. Three years later, he received that opportunity and wrote both music and lyrics for A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, another hit. His string of commercial success was broken in 1964 when he wrote Anyone Can Whistle, which lasted for only nine performances.

Sondheim went on, of course, to write other history-making hits such as Company, Follies, A Little Night Music, Pacific Overtures and Sweeney Todd, all in partnership with director Hal Prince. He was disappointed by the short run of their next show, Merrily We Roll Along. Following this commercial flop, he considered quitting theatre to write murder mysteries. Instead he switched directors, breaking with Prince and teaming with James Lapine (pictured with Sondheim to the left), who not only directed his subsequent musicals but also wrote the books. The first Sondheim/Lapine triumph was Sunday in the Park with George (my favorite musical), based on the artistic genius of French painter Georges Seurat, the father of Neo-impressionism. Sunday in the Park is one of only seven musicals to have won the Pulitzer Prize for Drama.

Other Sondheim/Lapine musicals include Into the Woods (produced at Barksdale last summer), Passion, and Assassins.

I study voice with Amy Hruska, and one of the songs she has me singing currently is Green Finch and Linnet Bird from Sweeney Todd. Inspired by the beautiful warbling of caged birds, the character of Johanna sings:

Green finch and linnet bird,
Nightingale, blackbird,
How is it you sing?
Whence comes this melody constantly flowing?
Is it rejoicing or merely HALLOING?
Are you discussing or fussing or simply dreaming?
Are you crowing?
Are you screaming?

When I first sang the word HALLOING, I assumed it meant something like “saying hello.” But this is Sondheim, so of course there are other layers of meaning. In 16th and 17th century England, to hallo or halloo was to shout an exclamation in a hunt when the quarry was spotted. In Coriolanus, Act I, Scene 8, Shakespeare writes, “If I fly, Marcius, halloo me like a hare.” Considering the plot of Sweeney Todd, certainly the birds were halloing when they spotted Johanna—or perhaps when they spotted the Judge.

Our word hello, issued as a greeting rather than a shout, dates from the mid-19th century, and fell into popular usage when Thomas Edison proclaimed it the appropriate way to greet someone when answering a telephone. Alexander Graham Bell preferred the phrase Ahoy, as used on ships. But by 1889, telephone operators were known as hello-girls due to the public acceptance of the Edison-inspired hello.

Today, Sondheim continues to write, create and inspire young admirers like me. His 2003 original musical Bounce has failed thus far to receive a NYC production. But in 2007, he composed incidental music for the Public Theatre production of King Lear, directed by Lapine. In that same year he had a bit part as himself on The Simpsons episode Yokel Chords.

--Hannah Miller

Everything's Coming Up Halenda

Posted by John Steils

Kathy Halenda, the wonderful Richmond-raised actress who starred in Barksdale’s recent productions of Mame and Disney’s High School Musical will be lighting up another stage about an hour down the road next week. Kathy is starring as Mama Rose in the national tour of Gypsy (see photo), stopping for one night at Charlottesville’s Paramount Theatre.

Her national reviews thus far have been unanimous raves:

“Gypsy has at least three things going for it -- the beautiful melodies of Jule Styne, Stephen Sondheim's witty lyrics, and American stage veteran Kathy Halenda, a woman big-voiced enough to sing the U.S. national anthem at Fenway Park, and bold enough to make us care about the original stage mommie dearest.” – London Free Press

“Great sets, great costumes and a great Rose!” – Binghamton Sun-Bulletin

“Everything’s Coming Up Rose!” – New Haven Advocate

“Halenda—taking charge the moment she arrives onstage—brings exuberance, energy and physical bravado to her character, making Rose larger than life. The other actors rarely show as much depth as she does, and rarely command such attention.” – Yale Daily News

Also appearing in the national tour of Gypsy is another Barksdale all-star. Rachel Abrams plays Mazeepa (the stripper with the helmet to the right of the photo). Rachel starred with Barksdale during each of the last two summers. She played Janis Joplin, Connie Francis and others in Beehive in 06, and the Baker’s Wife in Into the Woods in 07. In Gypsy, she’s also understudying Kathy as Mama Rose.

Called “the greatest of all American musicals” by the New York Times, Gypsy is the story of a quintessential stage mother, her dreams for her children, and the daughter who dared to live her own dream. From the first trumpet blast to the last hot spotlight, this classic Broadway show packs a powerful wallop, serving up one popular standard after another—songs like “Everything’s Coming Up Roses,” “Let Me Entertain You,” “You Gotta Have a Gimmick,” and “Together Wherever We Go.”

The Paramount performance will be Wednesday, November 7 at 8 pm. A group from the cast of Mame is planning on going up, and we hope lots of Richmonders will drive to C’ville to welcome Kathy back to her home state.

Gypsy was written by three virtuosos of American musical theater: Arthur Laurents (book), Jule Styne (music), and Stephen Sondheim (lyrics). The original production starring Ethel Merman and directed by Jerome Robbins was an instant hit when it opened at the Broadway Theatre in 1959. Subsequent revivals have garnered a total of three Tony Awards and featured such talents as Angela Lansbury, Tyne Daly and Bernadette Peters in the role of Rose.

Tickets are $58.50, $61.50, $64.50, and $69.50. (Barksdale's prices are starting to look pretty good, aren't they?) Half-price student rush seats and group discounts are also available. Tickets are currently on sale online and through the Paramount's box office at 434-979-1933. Also, as of this writing, Chase Kniffen has a couple or three great seats that he needs to sell. You can reach Chase at C.Kniffen@BarksdaleRichmond.org.

--John Steils

My Lunch with Arthur Miller

Posted by Bruce Miller

Four years before Phil Whiteway and I started Theatre IV, I worked summer stock in Southbury, Connecticut. The year was 1971, and I had just finished my junior year at the University of Richmond. None of us knew it at the time, but many if not most of the wonderful summer stock theatres that had thrived throughout New England for over 30 years were on their last legs. After the glory days of the 40s, 50s and 60s, true summer stock theatres were fast becoming a thing of the past.

A true summer stock theatre—at least this is how it was explained to me—produced ten shows in ten weeks, or twelve shows in twelve weeks. During each one week run, the show ran for eight performances, opening on a Tuesday and closing Sunday night.

If you worked for an official straw hat theatre (named for the fashionable headgear that gentlemen donned when the temperatures began to rise), the acting companies were booked in. They brought their own costumes and hand props, and the theatre built the sets and provided lights and sound. If you worked for a summer stock company that wasn’t a part of the official straw hat circuit—the Southbury Summer Playhouse wasn’t—then you created everything from scratch and nothing was booked in. The actors were part of a rep company, half of whom did nothing but act while the other half acted occasionally and worked their donkeys off every minute they weren’t on stage.

Our ten shows at Southbury in the summer of ’71 were Arsenic and Old Lace, Barefoot in the Park, Boys in the Band, Bus Stop, Cactus Flower, The Mousetrap, See How They Run, Under the Yum Yum Tree, West Side Story, and Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? At least that’s what my fading memory tells me they were. I was the props master for all ten shows, I helped out with any and everything else as needed, I played a lead in See How They Run and tiny supporting parts in Arsenic and Cactus.

The work was grueling, pretty much 9 a.m. until midnight or 1 seven days a week. Our only off time was Wednesday from noon until 6, when about 12 of us would pile into two cars and drive into NYC to buy standing room tickets to a Broadway hit. There was no TKTS booth, but standing room cost only $3, if memory serves.

I had the time of my life!

Even in those days when summer stock theatres were still fairly plentiful, jobs were hard to come by. You more or less had to know someone. I knew my college roommate and best pal Rick Gehr from Binghamton, New York. Rick knew his high school buddy Richard Ebeling, who had somehow managed to get a job at Southbury in 1970, and was not returning in ’71. Ebeling put in a good word for Gehr, and Gehr put in a good word for me. Rick Gehr and I took a bus up to Southbury to interview and audition with the producer, W. Thomas Littleton, and we both were cast.

We were paid $75 a week, and each of us paid $25 a week to rent a bed from Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, who owned a big white frame house about ten minutes up the road in Woodbury (pictured to the left). If we wanted to eat dinner at the Andersons, that was an additional $3 per meal. All in all, we scraped by.

I have a million stories, but one of my favorites involved Arthur Miller, who lived about 8 minutes away in Roxbury. That's his house in the picture to the right. Early in our 12-week contract, one of the locals drove us around to visit the houses of the famous people who were our neighbors in the Litchfield Hills—Arthur Miller, Alexander Calder, Jerzy Kosinsky, William Styron, John Updike, Richard Widmark, Sylvia Sidney, etc. Today you can add Dustin Hoffman, Frank McCourt and Stephen Sondheim to the list.

When we got to Arthur Miller’s house, I was stunned to see that his mailbox had Miller written on it in big block letters just like my parents’ mailbox at home in Virginia. I made them stop the car and take my picture next to the mailbox. I have no idea where that photo is today. Behind and to the side of Miller's white frame house is the studio he build in the late 40s, pictured above and to the left. It was in this studio that he wrote Death of a Salesman, The Crucible, and most of his other great plays.

Anyway, one day I was taking a lunch break from my desperate search for free props, and I sat down at the lunch counter at Canfield Corner Pharmacy in Woodbury. I was sitting by myself eating a sandwich when a man in his 50s sat down on the counter stool next to me. The man who ran the lunch counter came over and said, “Hello, Mr. Miller.” I looked up, thinking he was talking to me, and wondering how he knew my name. It was instantly obvious from his gaze that he was talking to the fellow sitting next to me. I glanced over just long enough to realize that the man sitting five inches from my elbow was none other than the legendary Arthur Miller himself. He ordered a corn beef on rye, and we sat there silently until both of us had eaten our sandwiches and he went on his way. I never had the nerve to say anything, but I tried to soak it all in as much as I could.

Last week, I took my family back up to Southbury, Woodbury, Roxbury and Washington CT. Washington made the list because it’s the neighboring town that served as the inspiration for Stars Hollow on one of my family's favorite TV shows, The Gilmore Girls. The interior and signage of Crossroads Cafe, the diner that served as a model for Luke's on The G G, are featured in the photos to the left and right. As you can see, the church is across the street in Washington just as it is in Stars Hollow.

Unfortunately, the barn that served as home to the Southbury Summer Playhouse was torn down decades ago, but we still had a grand time visiting my old haunts.

While there, we stopped in a framing shop in Woodbury to ask for directions to Alexander Calder’s house, and met with a lovely young lady who asked if I knew Bill C. Davis. I told her that I’d just met him at the world premiere of Austin’s Bridge at the Firehouse in Richmond, and that he seemed very nice. Turns out she’s his hiking partner, and he now lives in that part of the world as well. She told me that he really is the nicest guy in the world, and asked me all about what I thought about Austin’s Bridge. I shared my opinions, and referred her to my earlier entry in this blog.

It was a great trip, and a wonderful chance to remember again my lunch with Arthur Miller.

--Bruce Miller

Shining as Alexandra in Arlington

The Whiteways and the Millers made it up to Signature Theatre yesterday, and had a grand time seeing Emily Skinner’s terrific performance in The Witches of Eastwick. We were dazzled by (and envious of) Signature’s beautiful new home, which opened in Arlington in January.

Within a great cast, Emily stood out as Alexandra Spofford, the earth mother among the three “witches.” Her acclaimed singing, her accomplished dancing—I’d forgotten how good a dancer Emily is, and especially her engaging acting abilities provided a warm heart and open arms at the center of what is, for the most part, a musical burlesque.
In the original 1980s Witches novel, John Updike kept the three women at its center, and had satiric fun imagining what witchcraft would look and feel like in the 20th Century. It's been a long time since I read the book, but if memory serves, the attractive man (Darryl Van Horne) who moves to Eastwick in the book seduces readers with his charms just as he seduces the three women, and it's not until we're well into the story that we knew for sure that he's not just a devilish rake, but the Devil himself.

In the musical, as in the Jack Nicholson movie from the 1990s, it’s Darryl Van Horne who takes center stage. Particularly in this production, we’re completely aware of his satanic identity from his first entrance, with all that such an identity implies. And as directed by Eric Schaeffer and performed by the very talented Marc Kudisch, Van Horne is one hell of a Devil. A full evening of snakelike tongue flicking, Elvis-like pelvic thrusting, genital grabbing and profane proclamations ensues.

There is fun to be had, to be sure, with a large number of crowd-pleasing songs and dances. The Devil is one funny dude. Eric Schaeffer is a great director—I still fondly remember his Passion, one of the highlights of the Kennedy Center’s Sondheim Celebration. In my opinion, it was a much better Passion than the original version that James Lapine directed on Broadway. And Marc Kudisch is a dazzling and magnetic actor. Maybe it was because I saw Kudisch play the Snake in The Apple Tree on Broadway only a few months ago, but I tired of all the satanic shtick before show’s end. And I kept wishing for the three women to be returned to the center of the story.

A show about the three women would be much more interesting to me than a show about how devilishly cute Satan can be. I had read a couple of reviews comparing Witches to The Music Man. To me, the much more apt comparison would be Damn Yankees.

Three cheers and countless more to Signature for their continued commitment to producing new work. What an amazing asset they are to Virginia and the nation. When we spoke with Emily after the show, she said that there was considerable interest from New York regarding a 2008-09 Broadway production. We wish all involved the greatest success.

Most of all, it was GREAT to see Emily. Having watched her grow up in Theatre IV’s productions of To Gillian on her 37th Birthday, Quilters, Biloxi Blues and several more, we’re incredibly proud of her and all that she has achieved. Watching her greet her many fans after the show, people she’d never met before, and seeing how exceptionally gracious she was with everyone, we realized why she’s one of the ones who’s made it so far. She’s not only a world-class talent; she’s a genuinely good person.

--Bruce Miller

Photos: Emily's headshot, Signature's new exterior, Signature's lobby, and the "sculpture" Emily's character creates in Act II of The Witches of Eastwick. The "sculpture" is on display in the lobby as the audience leaves the theatre.

"Into the Woods" Earns Rave from T-D

The first critic has spoken, and declared Into the Woods to be a “MAGICAL” summer hit! Susan Haubenstock’s assessment appeared in Monday morning’s Times-Dispatch (April 18), and the review’s headline and sub-headline said it all: “Barksdale gets Ambitious, Scores” and “Work on Sondheim Classic is Dazzling in All of its Facets.”

Stephen Sondheim is almost universally recognized as the greatest Broadway composer and lyricist of the final third of the 20th Century. Described by Frank Rich in the The New York Times as "the greatest and perhaps best-known artist in the American musical theater," he is one of the few people to win an Academy Award, multiple Tony Awards (seven, more that any other composer), multiple Grammy Awards, and a Pulitzer Prize. His most famous scores include (as composer/lyricist) A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, Company, A Little Night Music (my favorite musical), Follies, Sweeney Todd, Sunday in the Park with George, and Into the Woods, as well as the lyrics for West Side Story and Gypsy (probably my second and third favorite musicals).

The stellar cast we have assembled for Into the Woods is second to none. “The performers are a true ensemble,” writes Haubenstock, “with Steve Perigard’s low-key baker and Rachel Abrams as his spunky wife perhaps at the center. Robyn O’Neill is vibrant as the witch, and Rita Markova makes a lovely Cinderella. Russell Rowland and Zak Resnick are both hilarious as lascivious wolves and roving-eyed princes; Ford Flannagan’s narrator reminds one of Joel Grey with his lightness and grace. Drew Seigla plays Jack (of beanstalk fame) as naive but lovable, and Jacqueline Jones is his brash, exasperated mother.”

“But the scene-stealer here is Audra Honaker as Little Red Riding Hood, who earns a laugh with every line and applause with every exit. The character is written funny, to be sure, but Honaker’s deadpan performance ratchets every gag up from chuckle to guffaw.” Haubenstock goes on to praise our brilliant director and choreographer (Robin Arthur), our music director (Jimmy Hicks) and our designers (set – Mercedes Schaum, costumes – Terry Snyder, and lights – Lynne Hartman). To those well deserved kudos, I’d like to add a special thanks to our indefatigable production crew, led by my greatly respected and invaluable colleagues: Bruce Rennie, Tech Director; Richard Koch, Production Manager; and Ginnie Willard, Production Stage Manager.

As Haubenstock suggests, Into the Woods is a hugely ambitious production for a theatre of our size. Phil and I feel privileged to be producing such a rewarding show, and to have the opportunity to work with such talented theatre artists.

For the full review of Into the Woods, go to: Richmond Times-Dispatch review

FOLLOWUP-Read another rave from Richmond.com, go to: Richmond.com review

To puchase tickets, call our Box Office today at 282-2620. I know you’ll enjoy this glorious production.

Special thanks to the Title Sponsor of Into the Woods, Village Bank, who helped make this production possible.

--Bruce Miller