"Macbeth" at Park Square Theatre

Macbeth. There I said it. In addition to being one of Shakespeare's darkest, bloodiest, and most violent plays, Macbeth has also inspired a silly theater superstition in which it's bad luck to say the name in a theater. But it's certainly not bad luck to produce it, also being one of Shakespeare's most popular plays. Wikipedia tells me that "it dramatizes the damaging physical and psychological effects of political ambition on those who seek power for its own sake." Which is something we still see examples of today. While it's not as bloody good fun as I remember the Guthrie's 2010 production being (one of my favorites of that year), Park Square Theatre's Macbeth is intense, intimate, and striking.

"Sons of the Prophet" at Park Square Theatre

"You are far greater than you know, and all is well." In the 2012 Pulitzer Prize finalist Sons of the Prophet, the members of the Lebanese-American Douaihy family cling to this quote from their distant relation Khalil Gibran like a lifeline in the midst of their suffering. The also idolize the Lebanese Saint Rafqa, a 19th Century nun who prayed for suffering so she could feel closer to God. Being raised Catholic, I'm familiar with the idea of suffering as virtue, and I don't buy it. Suffering is not something to be sought after, it doesn't make us more pious. But let's face it, suffering is a part of life. We all suffer in different immeasurable ways. The suffering itself is not a virtue, rather it's how we're able to get through it and who we are on the other side that matters. The Douaihy brothers endure their suffering with humor and compassion in this play full of quirkily endearing characters that ends with no resolution, only a promise of more suffering, and more life.

"A Lovely Sunday for Creve Coeur" by Gremlin Theatre in an Apartment Next to Open Eye Figure Theatre

I love site-specific theater, when a play is produced not in a traditional theater space, but rather in a location where it might actually take place. A dark office comedy in an office, a relationship drama in what looks like a Brooklyn apartment, or an early 20th century story of the wealthy and the help in the basement kitchen of the James J. Hill House. These very real locations make it easier to suspend disbelief, so that you feel like you're actually witnessing real happenings in a real environment. But as Gremlin Theatre found out last week, this sort of site-specific theater is not as easy as it looks. They were set to produce Tennessee Williams' A Lovely Sunday for Creve Coeur in a house in St. Paul, when they were informed of occupancy and legal issues just a day before performances were supposed to start. They were forced to suspend the production indefinitely, but were luckily able to quickly secure another location, an apartment owned by Open Eye Figure Theatre, proving the old adage of theater - "the show must go on!" And it just so happens that this is the perfect location for this funny, touching, and wistful little play set in a St. Louis apartment. Kudos to director Jef Hall-Flavin, technical director and scenic designer Carl Schoenborn (who can currently be seen onstage in Savage Umbrella's Rapture), the excellent four-person cast, and the entire Gremlin team for making a seamless transition in such a short time. The play looks as if it was always meant to play in that space. I have really come to appreciate Gremlin Theatre over the last few years, everything they do is so well-done and they make interesting and unexpected choices, so I'm happy to see them continue on after losing their permanent home last year. A Lovely Sunday for Creve Coeur is a wonderful production and a welcome return.

Tennessee Williams (one of my favorite playwrights), is most well-known for the American Southern tragedies he wrote in the '40s and '50s - Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, A Streetcar Named Desire, and my personal favorite, The Glass Menagerie. Creve Coeur, written in 1979, is one of his later works but definitely bears a resemblance to those earlier plays. Set in St. Louis in the 1930s and focusing on one day in the lives of four women, it features the obligatory desperately and tragically in love Southern woman. Dotty has recently moved from Memphis to teach Civics in the local school, and is rooming with Bodey, a German woman intent on setting Dotty up with her twin brother (the title refers to the location of a picnic she's planning). But Dotty is in love with the school principal, and spends the day waiting for his phone call. Her friend and fellow teacher Helena drops by to collect money for the apartment they're planning to share in the nicer part of town. Helena looks down on Bodey and her shabby and colorful apartment. Bodey is fiercely protective of Dotty (and her plot to marry her to her brother), and tries to prevent Helena from telling her some devastating news. Complicating the situation is a visit from the upstairs neighbor Sophie, grieving the recent death of her mother and afraid to be alone in her apartment. There's no happy ending for any of these women (this is Tennessee Williams, after all), but as Dotty says, "We must pull ourselves together and go on. Go on, we must just go on, that's all that life seems to offer - and demand."

Suzanne Warmanen and Sara Richardson

The show is well cast. Suzanne Warmanen is always hilarious (see also: Pride and Prejudice and her many appearances in A Christmas Carol), but also gives Bodey a depth of feeling and heart beneath the busybody exterior. Sara Richardson, who can do broad comedy as well as intense drama, walks the line between the two and is pitch perfect as the classic Tennessee Williams Southern woman ala Blanche and Maggie the Cat. Sara takes Dotty from a happy and carefree young woman doing her daily exercises to a woman who's dreams have been crushed. As Helena, Jane Froiland is appropriately haughty, while also giving us a hint of what's underneath the polished exterior (see Jane in the hilarious locally filmed web series Theater People). Last but not least, Noë Tallen is equal parts humor (rushing to the bathroom because of what coffee does to her digestion) and pathos (wailing that she's "alein in der Welt" - "alone in the world") in her portrayal of poor Sophie.

All of this takes place in a very realistic apartment, because it is a real apartment. Walking through the door next to Open Eye, you are presented with a long narrow room with high ceilings. First are few rows of chairs and stools for the audience, followed by the living room area opening up to the kitchen behind. Stairs on the right go up to the upstairs apartment. Colorful wall hangings and props adorn the space, and it's hard to tell which came with the space and which were brought in for the production, so organic does it feel. The four women move around the space, from the open door letting in cold air behind the audience, to the living room, kitchen, stairs, and even bathroom (which the audience members can use before the show and during intermission). Bodey really fries chicken (you can hear and smell it) and makes deviled eggs in the kitchen. The period costumes (by Clare Brauch) also feel authentic, from the frumpy housedresses of the German women, to Helena's beautiful period dress and hat, as pretty and proper as she is, and Dotty's simple but pretty new dress. It all feels very real.

I once wrote "Tennessee Williams did not write comedies," although maybe he did, as this play is much lighter than his usual southern tragedy. But there are still elements of that tragedy, in a woman grieving her beloved mother, another desperately in love with a man who is not who she thinks he is, another hanging all of her hopes for happiness on someone else's possible relationship, and one who seems cold and selfish but is really just longing to not be alone.

With just 40 seats and a reduced performance schedule, tickets may be hard to come by (the performance I attended was sold out), but it's worth the effort. There are a few discount tickets left on Goldstar, otherwise call or get your tickets online at the Gremlin website. Don't miss this chance to see a lesser known work by one of America's greatest playwrights, brought to very real life by a great cast in an authentic location.

"Autumn Song" by George Maurer at St. Joan of Arc Church

As I've said before, I'm not really into poetry. I have a hard time getting anything out it when I try to read it. But when it's set to music, it's a whole different story. Accomplished local composer and pianist George Maurer has set several poems of German poet Rainer Maria Rilke to music, interspersed with a few poems by Tennessee Williams. This initially seemed like an odd couple to me, until I learned that Williams was a poet in addition to being a playwright (one of my favorites), and he was inspired in his writing by the writing of Rilke. George and director Jef Hall-Flavin have imagined a dream-like conversation between the two, consisting entirely of music and poetry. A cross between a concert and a theater piece, Autumn Song doesn't have much in the way of plot or story, but instead it brings the poetry of Rilke to life. It's a beautiful creation.

The evening begins with Jared Oxborough as Tennessee Williams entering like a character from one of his plays, like Brick or Stanley (and it was hot enough in the gym of St. Joan of Arc church to believe we were in Williams' Southern home). He begins reading a book of Rilke poetry, when the poet himself (played by Dieter Bierbrauer) appears as if in a dream. The two men interact and sing alternately or together, mostly Rilke poems and a few Williams poems as well. A few visions wander through, representing the objects of the two men's affection – Rilke's played by Dieter's real-life wife Anna, and Williams' played by Caleb Carlson, a promising young actor I've seen recently in Julius Caesar and Our Class. Despite the lack of dialogue or exposition, it's obvious that Williams takes inspiration from Rilke, so that by the time that Rilke leaves at the end of the piece, Williams is able to write again.

Tennessee Williams (Jared Oxborough) and
Rainer Maria Rilke (Dieter Bierbrauer) converse

There is much talent and collaboration present in Autumn Song. This is George's passion project, his Sistine Chapel (read a nice interview with George about the project here). He has done a beautiful job of setting these poems to music of varying styles in a way that makes them most clear and alive. George (on piano) and his band (cello, bass, drums, sax) sound fantastic, and he could not have chosen two better singers than Jared and Dieter, who both appeared on their day of from their current regular gig (Jared is in the lush old-fashioned musical Roman Holiday at the Guthrie, while Dieter is starring in the super-fun spoof Xanadu at the Chan – my two must-see musicals of the summer!). Individually, each of their voices are gorgeous, and matched by their acting skills. Blend these two voices together and you have some incredible harmonies (there's not much I like better in music than a good harmony). And their combined acting skill makes you feel the emotions of the characters, which is more important than the literal interpretation of what's happening. They don't just sing the songs, they portray the emotions behind the words and music. George's bass player Jeff Engholm takes the lead for the final song, "Autumn Days," (in what I like to call a "Purple Summer" moment), as Dieter and Jared add their harmonies. It's the first Rilke poem George set to music, and it's a glorious celebration:

Lord, it's time. The summer has gone by.

Darken the sundials with your shadows,

On the meadows let the wind go free.

Command the fruit to swell on tree and vine;

Grant them a few more transparent days,

Urge them on to fulfillment, and press

The final sweetness to the heavy wine.

As I've also said before, I'm a geek for the German language (see Werther und Lotte and Ich bin meine eigene Frau), having studied German at St. Ben's/St. John's like George did, where he was introduced to Rilke in his German classes. While Rilke's poems are translated into English for this piece, there's still that inherent German-ness in it that makes me want to attempt to read a few poems in the original language. I'm only marginally familiar with Rilke, and with Williams only as a playwright not a poet. So I appreciate getting to know both of these artists and their work a little better.

George and company will next take Autumn Song to the Tennessee Williams Theater Festival in Massachusetts. They have a Kickstarter campaign to help to fund this effort (click here to view video and back the project). I wish them much luck in this endeavor and am grateful to have gotten a sneak peek.

I'll leave you with a few poems my Rainer Maria Rilke, as sung in Autumn Song (you can read the entire libretto here).

I Love the Dark Hours

I love the dark hours of my being

My mind deepens into them.

There I can find, as in old letters,

The days of my life, already lived,

And held like a legend and understood.

  

I Live my Life in Widening Circles

I live my life in widening circles

that reach out across both earth and sky

I may not ever complete the last one,

but I give myself to

circling 'round God, that primordial tower

I've been circling ten thousand years long;

yet still I don't know:

am I a falcon,

am I a storm, or an unfinished song?

To the Beloved

Extinguish my eyes,

I'll go on hearing you.

And without a mouth, I can swear your name.

And without feet, I can make my way back to you.

Break off my arms,

I will take hold of you

with my heart as with a hand.

Stop my heart

and my brain will start to beat.

And if you consume my brain with fire,

I’ll feel you burn in every drop of my blood.

Sonnet 29
What is the deepest loss that you have suffered?
If your drink is bitter, turn yourself to wine.
Be in this night of a thousand excesses,
The magic at the crossroads of your senses.
In this night of a thousand excesses
Be what their strange encounter means
And when the world no longer knows your name?
Say to the earth: I'm flowing
Speak to the rushing water, and say:
I am.